Conspire to Ignite
by A Touch of Insanity
Summary: The Enterprise begins its travels through space with Jim Kirk as its captain, beginning a long history of accidents and crazy circumstances because, well, it's Jim. Spock's pov, established Spock/Uhura, eventual K/S.
1. Chapter 1: Far Away

_Illogical_. It was truly the best word to sum up his current state of…well, everything to be honest. The entire idea of it… _"Captain? As you have no First Officer I respectfully submit my candidacy. I can provide character references if you wish."_ He still couldn't believe he had actually said it. Not only would the idea of having to find character references of himself be completely unnecessary as he was more than competent, but the fact that he had actually applied for the position was absurd. It was not his most logical moment. In fact, he had completely gone on faith. Of course, it was technically faith in himself, but still. The idea of a friendship between himself and _Captain_ Kirk was highly improbable. Nonetheless, he had been accepted.

There was the consideration of Nyota in making his decision to apply…but, considering his Vulcan needs, he couldn't say that a long-distance relationship would have been a bad idea. He had no desire for physical contact, after all, and really, all that attracted him to her were her impressive talents, their similar interests, and her compassion when he was emotionally indisposed. Not exactly the most concrete grounds for a relationship, but enough to sustain it from two separate vessels. In truth, it might be more difficult to continue the relationship while in close proximity for long periods.

Either way, there he was on the transport pad, mentally preparing himself for the job ahead.

Nyota came up to him in the transport room, smiling. "Hello, Spock. Ready?"

"I find that I am prepared for the extended period to be spent in space. Am I correct in assuming you will be the chief communications officer?"

"Yes. Do you notice anything different?" she asked, clearly meaning something specific. He stared at her, not quite sure how to respond.

"No…?"

"Come on, look closer."

"There are new panels on transport controls?" he supplied, gesturing to the improvements made during their brief stay on Earth. She rolled her eyes.

"No, I cut my hair! It's short now. Do you like it?" She patted the short style in place, smiling.

After a second of internal deliberation, he decided upon, "It compliments your face shape." Another eye-roll.

She tugged on his arm. "Come on up to the bridge. We've got new scanners." He followed her up to the bridge where they were greeted by Captain Kirk.

"Hey, Spock, Uhura. Nice hair, by the way." He clapped his hands together with a small grin of excitement. "Anyway, so we leave Earth's orbit in about fifteen minutes. To your stations and all that." Spock acknowledged the smile from Nyota and went to his station. He found that, indeed, the ship had been outfitted with the newest scanners. He spent a minute familiarizing himself with the new controls before running a quick system check. By that time, everyone needed was in the bridge in his or her positions. "Mr. Sulu, Mr. Chekov? Prepared to leave orbit?"

"Yes sir. Leaving orbit now." Sulu directed the ship into space. "Ready to go to warp, Captain?"

"Engage warp drive, Sulu." In moments, stars were streaming before them. The captain debriefed them on their current mission – to deliver equipment and supplies to a Federation colony on a distant moon named Panonar – and the Enterprise's first official mission with Captain James T. Kirk was under way. Spock could not help but feel that it might all be a horrible, irreversible mistake, despite the slight excitement that he quickly repressed.

* * *

The voyage to Panonar turned out to be several days long, even with Scotty milking everything he possibly could from the engines, and then some. Spock found himself spending the majority of his free time studying and learning what he could about nearly everything, most significantly, Vulcan II and Earth. As far as other people were concerned, he spoke to Nyota when spoken to, kissed her when kissed first, and did what he thought was proper. For some reason, it wasn't right. If there was anything he hated, it was doing what was logically sound and then, somehow, being punished for it. In this case, she was beginning to be easily upset by anything he did wrong. It just so happened that he tended to do a lot wrong without knowing so beforehand. He was thinking about it one quiet day on the bridge, when his quieter-than-normal, nearly-sulky behavior was noticed.

"What's with you, Spock? You look like you're trying to see through the floor. Unless that's some sort of Vulcan trick and I'm mistaken, you look kinda bummed," Captain Kirk suggested, stretching in his chair. Most of the crew was in the rec room, but a few yeomen shuffled about, checking the scanners and doing other menial tasks.

"'Bummed'? It would seem to me that that is a human emotion. I am merely trying to figure something out."

"Anything I can help with?" Kirk's tone told him that he actually had no interest, and was just bored of sitting around, waiting.

"Doubtful, Captain." He stared at the floor once more, then nearly added a statement to covey gratitude. He decided that it really didn't matter if the Captain didn't actually care in the first place.

"Right. Because I have absolutely no intelligence or experience in anything whatsoever."

"I did not mean to make an assessment on your abilities. Simply, I am not looking for outside input on the matter." The Captain did not respond, so he went back to his thinking. Really, there was no explanation for Nyota's behavior. He had done everything he thought he was supposed to do. The interactions he considered to be appropriate didn't seem to be accepted as well as he thought. Requests that they spend time reading together in the rec room or go over a new dissertation on xenolinguistics were met with a solitary shake of the head. He didn't understand. They shared similar interests, so it would be logical to pursue them together. Apparently, there was some piece of information he was missing.

"Captain? There's indication that there's a ship adrift ahead of us," a very young female yeoman stated, looking up from a datapad. Spock looked to the Captain. He nodded.

"Yeoman, see if you can pick up a signal from the ship." She sat at the communications panel and tried several buttons.

"Sir, I'm not getting any signals."

"Al-"

"Wait, I think I'm picking something up…it's…I don't know what to make of it, Captain. It's almost like…breathing, panting, I think." He signaled her to open a transmission to the other ship.

"This is Captain Kirk of the starship Enterprise. Are you in need of assistance?" There was no response for a full minute. Then, a soft, breathy voice spoke up.

"Yes, Captain…can you beam myself and my crew mates aboard? There's only three of us left. Please…"

"Yes, just a moment." He turned and made a ship-wide announcement telling Scotty to head for the transport room to beam aboard the three passengers. "Spock, man the bridge. I'm going to go greet our new passengers." He got up and left in the turbolift. Spock took the Captain's chair.

"Yeoman, run diagnostic scans on the other ship. We can assume that crew members have died, and I would like to know why."

"Yes, Commander Spock." He sat and waited for her to come up with any sort of information. "Radiation levels are normal, life support systems are functioning…that's all we can tell from this distance." A few moments later, Kirk sent him a message on his comm unit.

"Mr. Spock, meet me in the conference room." Spock left with a quick instruction to the assorted crew members on the bridge to not change anything. In the conference room, Captain Kirk was seated across from a woman and two men. He indicated to Spock to seat himself next to him.

"Ms. Marna, Mr. Ines and Mr. Tate, this is my First Officer, Mr. Spock. Why don't you tell us what happened?"

The woman took a deep breath and begun, "We're not sure how it started. We were transporting our cargo, a shipment of small dilithium crystals, four days from our destination when something strange started happening. The temperature onboard began to fluctuate. We thought there was something wrong with the life support systems because it began getting colder, but then there was this awful humidity. The floors in the hallways became slick with ice. But then our engineer said that life support was functioning normally. That's when it started to get hot. The air dried out pretty quickly, but the heat was everywhere. Food spoiled, water evaporated. Pretty soon it was nearly a hundred and forty degrees Fahrenheit with absolutely no humidity. Most of the crew died of dehydration."

Kirk nodded. "When did this start happening?"

"About a week ago."

"Was it just after you came back from shore leave? A contaminant, perhaps?" Spock queried. The woman shook her head.

"We checked everything. Everything was decontaminated. Our sensors didn't recognize any contaminants. There was no cause."

"Alright. Security, escort Ms. Marna and her crew members to sickbay, and make sure to tell them where the mess hall is. Ms. Marna, I assure you, we'll get to the bottom of this, and, as soon as possible, we'll send a team to collect the remains of your crew and, if possible, fix the problem. For now, rest assured that you are in capable hands."

"Thank you, Captain." The security guards escorted the three out. When the doors closed behind them, Kirk turned to Spock.

"Any ideas?"

"I'm not sure, Captain. It's strange that what ever it is would cause completely opposite climate changes. We should double check their life support systems to make sure it isn't an error in the programming or machinery. At this time, I cannot think of any reason for such problems."

"Alright. I'll assemble a team to beam aboard and take a quick poke around."

"If I may, Captain, I would like to volunteer for such a team."

"I don't know, Spock. We don't know what's on that ship. I would prefer not to lose my First Officer before our first official mission."

"My Vulcan physiology is better suited to high temperatures than that of anyone else aboard the Enterprise. Also, I may notice something others might overlook."

"I won't say no, but you're still wearing a climate suit."

"Of course, Captain. Would you like me to assemble the team while you alert Starfleet of the possible delay? We have dropped out of warp."

"Yes. Just don't take Scotty quite yet. I would prefer to know more about the conditions before we send our best engineer. On that note, leave Bones as well."

"Certainly. I will gather a small team and be back as quick as possible with a report and any samples we might be able to find." Spock got up and left the room. He checked a datapad for information on the crew, and picked out the three others he needed, telling them to go to the transport room in a few minutes. He was heading to sickbay to see about the climate suits.

"Mr. Spock? Are you sick? You don't look sick, and I'm a little busy trying to rehydrate people here." McCoy's tone made his statement sound more like _get the hell out_.

"I apologize, Doctor, I simply wish to collect four climate suits. They are all in working order, I presume?"

"Yeah, they're in working order." He began grumbling something unintelligible and no doubt aimed at Vulcans as he tended to a crew member.

"Good. Oh, and I have relieved you of Nurse Chapel for the present, as we need someone with medical knowledge to assist when we go aboard. The Captain has disallowed me from taking you."

"Right. Fine, you can have her for now. Just don't get her killed or any of that. Good medical staff is hard to come by, you know. Not like you science officers or..." Spock largely ignored the response; considering that he had not asked any questions, it was unnecessary. McCoy brought him the four suits he requested, assuring him that they were all in good working order. He left with the suits for the transport room. As he and the small team were all putting them on, he debriefed them on the aims of the mission ahead. He them over. He had Nurse Chapel as a medical officer, a Mr. Tillman in engineering, and a Mr. Levine as their security detail. They looked young, like a lot of the crew, but still useful, according to the information on them in the ship's database. When everything was on properly and adjusted, they went to the transport pads. He signaled Scotty to beam them aboard the other vessel. A slight tingling sensation and they were on the other ship's bridge.

What they found, he decided, was more or less equivalent to the human concept of Hell.

* * *

**Author's Note: So, I just want to say right off the bat that I don't own Star Trek, obviously. Also, it will eventually be slash. K/S. and the title is from a song (a good one): Starlight by Muse. I kinda think it's basically nuSpock's song...That's basically it...oh, and feedback is appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2: Calm Before Another Storm

Through the climate suit, Spock could feel a faint, pleasant sort of heat. It reminded him of Vulcan, which sent a sharp pang of remorse through his abdomen. Temperature sensors on the outside of the suit indicated that it was 157.3 degrees Fahrenheit with 0 percent humidity. By his standards, that wasn't too bad. It seemed like that wasn't quite the case for the crew members whose bodies were lying on the floor or sitting in their chairs. There were nearly twenty in the room alone, too many for the space. The hot, dry air had dried out the bodies to an extent, but the sight was still enough to put a faint spin in his stomach. The smell that escaped the suit's filters was almost nauseating. Behind him, he heard one of the men retch. He regained his usual posture and tried to address the situation in the most detached way possible. "Nurse Chapel, your thoughts?"

She seemed to be in control of her emotions, most likely from her experiences in the sickbay. "I can't be sure without examining, but it doesn't seem as though any of these people were killed by other people. From the extent of the dryness and heat, I would say that dehydration would be the most likely cause of death."

"Tillman and Levine, try to find the life support systems and make sure they are in full working order. Nurse Chapel and I will stay here to collect samples." The two men left through the door and Nurse Chapel began examining a body. Spock found an air vent and opened it, checking for blockages or anything else. He took a sample of the dust on the grates of the vent and replaced the cover. He went around to try to collect samples from the saliva lungs of the bodies, but they were completely dried out. He took some scrapings and hoped they would be enough.

It was nearly twenty minutes after they had split up when Spock decided to contact the other two. "Mr. Tillman, Mr. Levine? Have you finished your diagnostic tests?" There was no reply. "Tillman? Levine? Please respond." There was silence on the other end. He blinked slowly. "Nurse Chapel, please wait here. I will go find Tillman and Levine. If I do not return in five minutes, tell Scotty to beam you back up. Take my samples with you." He set off out of the room and down the hall, making a hypothesis based on the general layout of the ship as to where the life support systems would be located. That was where he found the two officers. The gloves of their suits were laying on the floor next to their bodies. Spock quickly checked their vitals, finding that they were deceased. He noticed that their skin was completely dry. It was time to call the captain. "Spock to Enterprise, I repeat, Spock to Enterprise."

"Yes, Mr. Spock? This is Captain Kirk." The voice on the other end seemed slightly strained.

"Captain, we have a small situation. Our engineer and security officer are not dead, presumably of the same causes as the rest of the crew."

"It killed them through the suits?"

"No, they had removed their gloves. Would you like me to proceed here with caution, or to come back with the samples we have collected so far?"

"No, you and the other crew member should beam up. I don't want to risk anyone else." There was a heavy silence on the other end. "Leave the bodies. They're contaminated with whatever it is. We can't risk our crew as well. Kirk out." Spock nodded to no one in particular and went back to the bridge quickly and found Nurse Chapel preparing to leave. He informed Scotty that the two of them would be returning.

Upon beaming back onto the transport pad, they were thoroughly decontaminated. Spock took the samples to the science department for testing and went to the bridge to give his report to Kirk. He approached the captain, hands clasped behind his back.

"Captain, I have collected samples and sent them for testing. I think that the rate of dehydration has increased since Ms. Marna was onboard, considering the amount of time in which our crew members were killed. Again, I have no hypotheses as to the cause, but it seems as if something is drawing the moisture from the air."

"Thank you, Mr. Spock. Nurse Chapel has already given her report, indicating that the lack of moisture seems to be the only apparent cause of death."

"We'll know more when the results from the samples come back. I think-"

"_Spock_?" He turned, finding Nyota standing in front of the turbolift, having just come up. "We need to talk. Now."

He kept his posture as businesslike as possible. "I was just-"

"_Now._" Spock looked to Kirk, who was pointedly looking away, and followed her back into the turbolift. She told it to head down to the level containing the mess hall, then stopped the lift and turned to him. "What were you _thinking_? You _knew_ that people had died on that vessel, with no explanation, and you went _anyway_? Why didn't you even tell me? You could have _died_, Spock. Two men _did_ die."

"It was logical, since I am the chief science officer and more adapted-"

"_I don't care_ how adapted you are! You can't just needlessly put yourself in danger and then not tell me about it!"

"I didn't see the logic in worrying you unnecessarily." The truth was, he hadn't actually thought about telling her. It hadn't seemed important.

"Some things aren't logical. We have a relationship, Spock. You have to communicate, tell me about things like this. I care about you. I don't want you to get hurt." She leaned up to him and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

"If I had told you, you might have let your emotions control you and it could interfere with your work."

She stared up at him and shook her head. "Look, I may not be half Vulcan, but I can still be a professional. I am capable of performing my duties even when I'm worried about you. I won't let my feelings for you conflict with my duties."

"And I will do the same." Her look was a little unsettling, so he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead because he knew it would comfort her and restarted the turbolift. When they reached the desired level, she smiled at him, tracing his jaw with her fingertips.

"I have to go back to work, but you should go eat something. You've had a busy afternoon." He departed for the mess hall, feeling a decided emptiness in his stomach. After getting himself some food from the replicator, he sat at a table by himself and began to eat slowly, reflecting on what had just happened.

Nyota's sudden worry had surprised him, in a way, although he realized he should have anticipated it considering her tendency towards emotional attachment. He thought it was slightly uncomfortable that she had approached him on the bridge in full view of everyone. Well, not really everyone, but most certainly the Captain. That was not exactly a pleasant concept. He would prefer for his relationship with her to be kept completely separate from anything related to Kirk. Not only would it be less than discreet to be more open about it, but he was worried that he would cite regulation and force them to separate, causing him to have to be involved in a secret relationship. It would be a stressful arrangement, and one best avoided. Spock also thought it a little strange that _he_ had kissed _her_, even if it was only on the forehead. Kissing was not something he initiated between the two of them; he did not understand the purpose of the gesture. It seemed to have placated her temperment to some extent, so he figured it was satisfactory that he had acted as such.

"You've got that look again," Kirk said, sitting across from him. Spock suppressed his immediate response of being startled.

"To which look would you be referring?" He took a bite of his lukewarm food, easily hiding his urge to grimace at the taste.

"The Vulcan not-bummed one from earlier." Kirk began eating with gusto, his eyes still on him and waiting for a response. "I suppose it would have nothing to do with Uhura and that little thing in the bridge?" His mouth was quite full when he spoke, causing Spock to swallow his own food in disgust.

He deflected. "I am not willing to comment on the matter."

"Everyone knows that means 'yes'. What'd she chew you out for? It helps to talk about things, you know."

"She did not 'chew me out'."

"Oh really? Because it sounded a lot like she chewed you out."

"I do not see how you could know what transpired in the turbolift. For all you know, we could have had an intellectual conversation."

"Uh, Spock, you left your communicator on."

"I did not." He found that if he had been someone else, in all probability, he would have cursed. With as much stealth as possible, he slid out his communicator from under the table and turned it off.

"You totally just turned it off, didn't you? Don't worry, I didn't really listen in or anything. I mean, I heard some stuff about people dying, you not telling her you were going, feelings, duties, blah blah blah. Not much, I can assure you."

"That was the entire conversation." He felt his eyebrow arch slightly and did his best to look subtly displeased.

Kirk grinned guiltily around his spork. "Oh? So it was...uh…nevermind then. But, I could help you out, you know, with her."

"For some reason, I am not inclined to allow you to do anything with her, including 'helping me out'."

"That's not how I meant it. What I meant was that I can help you understand her a little better and all that. I _do_ have a lot of experience with women."

"As my captain, you would be breaking several rules by assissting me in such a way. Not that I need your help."

"Well, as your _friend_, I don't see any issues. It's just a little advice, man-to-man. That's all." Spock was strangely elated at Kirk's word choice, but decided that hadn't really meant it. It was more logical to assume that he meant that the captain was trying to convey that he was offering help unofficially. Still, the idea was pleasant, in a sense.

"I suppose I see no problem with that. Or, I wouldn't, if I needed any help." He finished his plate and stood to put it away.

"Right. If you ever do, though, the offer still stands." Spock nodded once and put away his plate to return to the bridge to await the results on the samples.

The tests revealed spores in the dust from the air vents. Apparently, they were some sort of alien spore that reproduced very, very quickly and over a wide area. Then they absorbed heat and expelled moisture before they reached full maturity, at which point they did the opposite. The spores seemed to have a sticky coating which adhered them to any surface, in addition to small size and weight which enabled them to be carried by air currents until they hit something. Luckily, the Enterprise did not contain any of the spores. They technically had no way of detecting them because of how small they were, but they had followed strict decontamination procedures.

When Spock had informed Captain Kirk of this, he was told to send a team back to the other ship to recover the bodies of the crew. By his logic, if decontamination had killed the spores that would have landed on Spock and Nurse Chapel's suits, then they could decontaminate the bodies the same way. Spock did as he was told, sending ten security personnel over in the suits. Over the next twenty-four hours, all of the bodies were recovered, sixty-eight in total. There was hardly room for them, but somehow, McCoy made it work. Kirk arranged for Ms. Marna and all of her crew to be released on the next planet, which was only half a day away at full warp, to find a ride to get back to Earth with the bodies.

When everything was finished and back to normal after the other crew members had been deposited somewhere else, the ship entered a state of calm. They were two days away from their destination on Panonar, and the excitement from the recent events had settled down. Spock was playing a card game in the rec room with Nyota, Sulu, McCoy, Chekov, and the Captain. Despite what everyone thought, Chekov was more or less shaming them with his abilities. Even if they were only playing for toothpicks, he was still out-playing them all with ease. After he had won for the eleventh time, Kirk stopped playing and stood.

"Either he's cheating or I'm ten times worse at this game than I thought. Anyone up for a game of 3-D chess?"

"No, dammit, I'm going to beat the whiz kid over here if it kills me," McCoy growled, shuffling the deck.

"Chess? I must admit a curiosity about the game. I have studied the rules previously and believe I might be a competent player. I think I will join you, unless anyone else would like to?" Spock looked around and saw no one who seemed interested, so he took a seat opposite Kirk, who was setting up the board.

"You've never played?" He shook his head. "Well, I'll go easy on you, then."

"It's not necessary, Captain. My training and predisposition towards logic gives me a natural advantage. I see no need to disadvantage you any further."

"Fine, but I was pretty good at the game back in high school, and I played a little at the Academy, so I do have a bit of experience. Just in case, you know, you lose, don't take it too hard."

"Losing is a learning experience. It is illogical to feel a negative emotion because of having learned something."

"That's a great way to look at it. I hope that goes well." With that, they began play; Kirk allowed Spock to play white. Despite a lack of experience, he found that his ability to see the possible repercussions for any move quite far ahead was a definite advantage. At first, Kirk went easy on him, his moves were careful and he took only pawns. As they got into the game, however, he found that he was losing rooks, bishops, and knights and began a more aggressive strategy. Spock view the game as an experiment, playing with a curiosity that manifested itself in maneuvers that were surprisingly reckless to him, but he found that Kirk did not have the focus that allowed him to see as many of the moves ahead. Pretty soon, Kirk found himself trying to safeguard his king with his sole remaining pawn, that is, before Spock captured it with one of his queens. When he lost, it took him almost a full minute before he realized what happened. "What…?"

"Fascinating." Spock found he had enjoyed the game immensely. The concept of a game in which logic claimed victory was a pleasant one. He looked forward to learning more about the game.

"'_Fascinating'_? You just…destroyed me! That's 'fascinating' to you?"

"Remember, try to think of it as a learning experience. You have gained knowledge." His advice was shrugged off with contempt.

"Yeah, but my pride kind of just jumped out the window."

"It is illogical to think that your pride could have-"

"Save it. Give my dignity a little time to heal. That's something not even Bones can fix."

Bones looked over, seeming to actually think it over. "Wounded dignity? I'm afraid there's no hypospray for that. Actually, you know, there's this hypothetical-"

Kirk blanched. "Stop right there. I'm not your guinea pig. You're not going to test anything on me. I'm going to my quarters. I need to rest."

"I apologize, Captain, if this is because of my success. It could be what I believe you call 'beginner's luck'."

"Thanks for the attempt at trying to give me back my pride, but, no, we'll have a rematch later." He glanced back at Spock and gave him a grin. "And I'll kick your ass, don't you forget it." He left as Spock began putting away the chess pieces. When he was definitely out of earshot, Sulu looked over and grinned at Spock.

"Nice…I can't believe you just shamed him at a game you've never played before."

"I wouldn't say that I 'shamed' him, and I don't understand how his dignity or pride had anything to do with the outcome of the game. I simply used my inclination towards logic to my advantage."

"Well, it was fun to see. It's kinda nice when the captain gets put in his place every once in a while." Spock frowned internally. His job as first officer was not to be 'putting him in his place'. Quite the opposite, actually. He was supposed to make sure that the crew saw Kirk as nothing less than an amazing captain who had no faults so that they would follow him without question. He would have to remedy the situation somehow. Another game, perhaps, in the public eye, in which he would lose. Yes, that's what would happen, later on when Kirk was in a better mood to play. He got up from the table and left the rec room for his own quarters.

He was only a few steps from the door when he felt a small hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Nyota looking up at him with a soft smile.

"Do you want to go to my quarters for a little while?" She beamed up at him when he nodded and gently tugged him along by the arm. When they were inside her quarters, she immediately leaned up to kiss him. He complied with only slight hesitation. Before long, he could feel her fingers in his hair and he could help but think that it should not be like that, for him, just compliance. He wrote it off as the Vulcan side of him being unable to enjoy physical contact and tried not to let it show. One of the hands in his hair slid down to find his hand, placed firmly on her shoulder, and he almost jumped. They did not touch hands, something he found a little strange considering her knowledge of Vulcan culture. He quickly realized that she didn't have a Vulcan kiss in mind when he found that his hand had been moved, and to a rather awkward place. Pulling away, he gave her a confused look. "What's wrong? Was I moving too fast? Sorry, I just…"

"I think it would be best for me to return to my own quarters now. It has been a pleasant evening, thank you." Her eyes were pleading him to stay, but he had to get out. It was feeling oddly cramped in the small room.

Spock found himself walking a little ways past his own quarters to those of Captain Kirk. Not entirely sure of what his end game was, he knocked. The doors slid open a second later. Standing near the middle of the room and aggressively rubbing a towel in his hair was the captain.

"What is it?" He hadn't turned, so Spock wasn't sure the captain knew it was him. He used his fast-thinking abilities to formulate a proper response.

"I apologize for the intrusion, Captain. I would merely like to suggest that we play another chess game tomorrow in the rec room." Kirk slung the towel around his shoulders and offered a grin.

"What? So you can kick my ass again?" He adjusted the towel around his hips. His eyes darted quickly to the clothes he had laid out on his bed, but Spock ignored it.

"On the contrary, you would win."

He let out a small laugh. "Doubtful."

"I assure you, the game would result in your victory."

"Wait, are you telling me you want to play me again to let me win? No. I'm not going to win that way. I'll do it on my own." Amusement had turned to self-righteous annoyance. Spock saw he was losing ground.

"I simply suggest that you win tomorrow in the rec room to enhance your image in the eyes of the crew. If you feel it's important to claim victory without any help, I would like to suggest we play again in private to prepare for the possibility of my own possible victory."

Another grin, this one a little wider than the first. "Aw, Spock, if you wanted to spend time with me, you could just ask."

"I assure you that is not the case. It is merely my duty to assist you in making sure the crew performs admirably, which they may not do if they do not fully believe in your abilities, Captain."

"Fine. But can we drop the 'Captain' now? I mean, you called me Jim once, on the Narada. It's not like I mind being called by my own name."

"The occasion on which I called you by your first name was one in which I was emotionally incapacitated, unstable, and preparing for the likely event of my own death. It was not my intent to address you so informally."

"Does that mean you won't just call me Jim?"

"Yes, that would be a correct assumption."

He sighed. "We'll work on that. But, if you want, I'll challenge you to a chess game tomorrow in the rec room. And, yeah, I'll beat you fair and square in private. Okay?" He clearly was trying to end the conversation to be left alone.

"That is satisfactory, Captain." He stood in the doorway for a moment, contemplating asking about Nyota's behavior from earlier, then mentally shook it off and left the room. It was painfully uncomfortable to think of what had transpired in her chambers. Besides, with the welcome option of sleep, there was no reason for his mind to wander over such things. His last thought before finally drifting off was a troubling one: why did he not enjoy her the way she enjoyed him?

* * *

**Author's Note: So, let me just say this right out - I like Uhura's character in the movie and therefore will not mess with her too much. Also, updates should be just about every 1 to 2 days. Oh, and at the moment, I am open to suggestions concerning possible missions and whatnot. I was planning on recreating a couple of episodes and how they would affect the characters based on the new timeline. For those who have seen the original series, I've been eyeing "The Naked Time", "Amok Time", "The Trouble With Tribbles", and "Shore Leave", but if anyone has any recommendations, I might try to incorporate those as well. ****Anyways, thanks to everyone who reviewed!**


	3. Chapter 3: Heat Dies Down

**Sorry for the wait. Five-year-olds have been keeping me busy, and these chapters just keep getting longer.**

It was the next day, when the Enterprise was a day away from Panonar, that Spock noticed something was wrong. Without really thinking about it, most of the crew had started wearing an extra layer. It had not truly bothered him until he realized that his quarters were presently the temperature that the majority of the rest of the ship usually was, signifying a temperature drop of nearly twenty-five degrees. The rest of the ship was somewhere around sixty-five degrees, a ten degree drop from the night before, when Spock decided he needed to alert the captain. After all, it was impractical to be wearing a sweater on a ship that had a specific maintained internal temperature.

"Captain, I have noticed the air temperature has grown substantially cooler with no explanation. Is there a problem with our life support systems?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he froze, and not from the chilly air. Kirk seemed to be having a similar reaction as his eyes were wide in what could only be described as the realization of a major problem.

"Sulu! Drop out of warp! Scotty?"

"Aye, Captain?" Kirk's head spun around to find the engineer standing a little ways behind him.

"Scotty, go full stop. Check life support just to make sure, but I think there's a possibility we've got the spores. Go check it out." Scotty ran from the room at full speed, knowing full well the implications of what would happen to the Enterprise if they were contaminated with spores. "Spock, go check with the science department and see if they've found any way to kill the spores." Without a word, Spock set off at a brisk jog to the science department. He went through the various labs until he came to the one that was testing the spore. There were four scientists in their characteristic regulation blue shirts, three men and a woman. Two were looking through microscopes at slides, one was using a centrifuge, and the last one, the woman, was entering information into a datapad. When they noticed him in the room, they dropped everything and stood at attention.

"Officers, have you found any means of killing or slowing down the reproduction of the spores?" He searched their faces.

"No, Commander. We've been testing several compounds, but we won't know their effects for another six hours," replied the woman. Her eyes shifted back to the datapad. "We'll try to decrease that estimate, but we couldn't tell you much right now. We'll alert you the moment we find something." The message was clear: Spock was interrupting. He nodded once and left, pulling out his communicator.

"Captain? This is Spock."

"Jim," he corrected. "Yes, Spock?"

"_Captain_, the science department has found nothing. They assured me that they will not have any results for approximately six hours." Spock shivered. The temperature had been steadily dropping. It was much too cold for a Vulcan to be comfortable. "I will go to sickbay to see if there's anything Dr. McCoy can do to slow down the effects of the eventual dehydration we'll experience."

"Good. Scotty assured me that there's nothing wrong with life support, so we've got to act fast now, while we still can. Kirk out." Spock ended the transmission and headed down to sickbay, jogging partially for speed and partially for warmth. He estimated the temperature had dropped to fifty degrees Fahrenheit. He could feel his hands start to tremble. He pushed his discomfort aside however when he found McCoy.

"Doctor, is there anything we can administer to the crew to slow the effects of dehydration?" he breathed, flexing his fingers to increase blood flow. The few patients on beds had blankets placed over them.

"Nope. I've got my hands pretty full right now. Pneumonia's not a joke. Damn cold." The doctor was tending to the IV of a patient, not even bothering to look.

"Nothing? There has to be something!" Spock ground out, quickly regretting his temporary lapse of control. The tremors running across his skin were becoming distracting.

"What's with you? I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker." McCoy turned around looking perturbed until he saw that the Vulcan was shivering. "Dammit! I forgot about your weird Vulcan temperature issues. Don't you have a coat?" A head shake in the negative. "Wait here." McCoy went for a cupboard, sliding back the door and retrieving a blanket. He placed it in Spock's hands. "Stay warm and leave. I don't want a hypothermic Vulcan in my sickbay. I've got enough to deal with." Spock turned and began walking away. His hands shook as he unfolded the blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. His feet automatically took him to the bridge, and he ignored the puffs of steam that marked his breathing.

"Captain, Dr. McCoy has nothing to slow dehydration. We can't evacuate considering that anyone could be contaminated. There are no options." He let out a quiet cough and wrapped the blanket tighter.

"It seems that all we can do is wait for the science department to come up with something." He glanced over at Spock then did a double take. "Jeez, Spock! It's not that cold! It's not Delta Vega. Let me tell you, _that_ place is cold."

Spock ignored the reference to his previous actions. "Vulcan physiology makes us more able to withstand high temperatures due to the heat we adapted to on Vulcan. Conversely, we are more susceptible to lower temperatures as we do or did not encounter them on our planet. That is why I am more affected by the temperature drop than the rest of the crew."

"Wait, what's going to happen to you if the temperature drops well below freezing like it did on the other vessel?"

"I cannot be sure, but it is possible that with the onset of hypothermia I may go into a subconsciously self-induced coma to protect my mind from the cold's effects on my body."

"So, basically…it's bad. Good to know." Kirk looked Spock over with something unreadable in his gaze. "Go get yourself another blanket. A First Officer in a coma can't perform his duties, can he? I won't let you off the hook that easy." Spock nodded and headed to his quarters. After putting his spare uniform on over the one he was wearing, he took the blanket from his bed and wrapped that around himself with the other. With slight hesitation, he searched through his drawers for a knitted cap his mother had made him several years before and placed it on his head, making sure to cover the sensitive tips of his ears. Despite the negative emotional impact, it served its purpose well. With a light, barely-there sigh, Spock went back up to the bridge to resume his position.

Sitting at his station, he was slightly startled by a laugh. His head snapped around to the source of the offending noise, one Captain James T. Kirk. "Yes, Captain? Do you find something amusing?" More laughter followed.

"No, no. It's just…that hat!" Spock flinched as if the captain had struck him. The hat was one of the very few things he had left to remind him of his mother. The continued peals of laughter set his teeth on edge. "It's great, it's great. Oh, I wish I could take a picture. And your face!" This was the point where Spock began to get angry. He was suppressing the emotion, true enough, but he was cold and uncomfortable and was not in a mood to shrug off insults to something his mother made. He stood and left the room almost as quickly as he had entered it. Once in the turbolift, he reluctantly allowed himself to bite his lip in an attempt to not express anything. The lift doors were opened a split second later and the captain entered. The lift began to move, but he pressed the button. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you or anything."

"My mother made this hat. She knitted it for me before I left for Starfleet."

There was silence for a moment then, "…Well, fuck."

"I will acknowledge that the cold has distracted me to some extent and I may have overreacted."

"No, no. I wasn't even thinking. I like it, actually. It's cute." Spock's eyebrow raised involuntarily. "I'm sorry... I suppose Vulcans have something against hugs?"

"That is a correct assumption. We generally do not appreciate physical contact."

"Okay. What do you say we go back and do our whole 'facing down the crisis' thing?"

"That sounds satisfactory."

"Good." Kirk pressed the button to restart the lift and take them back to the bridge. As they left the lift, Spock felt a very slight, barely noticeable pressure against his shoulder blade. He found that, considering the brief nature of the touch, he did not mind.

* * *

An hour later, the temperature had settled somewhere around fifteen degrees. The moisture that had been building in the air had condensed and frozen on any surface that could be found. Spock had forgone the idea of actually working and had instead sat with his knees to his chest huddled under his blankets to keep warm. At the sound of chattering teeth, he turned and saw that the captain was turning blue and trying to stay warm in his usual Starfleet uniform and nothing else. He trusted his usual logic and stood, giving one of his blankets to Kirk. His eyes went wide.

"No, n-no. It's fine. I'm f-fine. You n-n-need it more that I d-do." This was accompanied by a shaky grin.

"You are the captain, not me. Logic. Take it." Spock was mildly embarrassed at his inability to speak in full sentences but was too busy shivering to care. He stood and tried his best to look adamant in his decision. The captain sighed and accepted the blanket. Spock returned to his station, feeling somewhat accomplished. He settled back to his former position with his arms wrapped around his legs. Resting his forehead against his knees, he pondered over how easy it would be to simply go to sleep for a little while.

* * *

There were voices. Someone was angry, whispering with a sense of urgency. It was fine, Spock decided. It all had nothing to do with him. He was comfortable and enjoying the nice darkness that was surrounding him. One of the voices grew louder, more insistent. He wanted it to stop for a while, so that everything could be quiet again. Everything was finally better. He was warm and laying down and-

His eyes flashed open. Kirk was leaning over him and yelling quietly, if that was possible, at Dr. McCoy.

"I'm sorry, Jim! But I told you, he's dead!" McCoy retaliated, glaring fiercely.

"Wh-Who is dead?" Spock grunted, trying to push himself into a sitting position. Two pairs of eyes jumped to his face. For half a second, no one moved. Then there was an obnoxious grin on the captain's face that nearly split it in half. The doctor looked incredulous and a little angry, more so than usual.

"Apparently, no one. Thank God! I thought I was going to have to tell Uhura that I killed you. Then I would be dead and there'd be no captain or First Officer or anything," Kirk rushed. "Good to have you back. Oh, and next time you think about doing something stupid and unnecessary to help me out, remember this moment. The almost-dying thing."

McCoy looked up at the sensors and scowled. "We're getting these damn things fixed. Can't even pick up a damn pulse."

"It is quite possible that I slipped into a temporary coma which suppressed my vitals enough so as not to be picked up by your sensors." He pushed himself up, easing the blanket that had been draped over him off, and looked around for a moment. "Why is the temperature back to normal? Has the science department found a method of disposing of the spores?"

"No. About an hour after you went into your little Vulcan coma thing, the temperature started going back up. We think it's gonna get worse until the temperature raises and humidity lowers to the point where we're all dead."

"Oh, that's cheery," McCoy remarked with an eye roll.

"In short, nothing has changed since I went into a coma. How much time has elapsed?"

"Almost five hours. Oh, hey, think we could not mention this little incident to Uhura? If she thinks you got into a coma because of me, well, lets just say you'll be promoted before you even know what happened."

Spock gave a slight nod. "I concur that that would be the best course of action. In addition, it was not at all your fault."

"But, you gave me your-"

"It would not have mattered in the end; the same result would have occurred. As it was, you were in more need of the blanket than I was. It was simple logi-"

McCoy groaned loudly. "Really? If you two are going to do this whole…whatever-the-hell-it-is-you're-doing thing, get out of my sickbay. You're giving me a headache. If you two are right about this whole spore crisis, I'm going to need to be headache-free to deal with the all the some odd four hundred dehydrated people who decide to come in for help _at exactly the same time_."

"But, Doctor, that's il-"

"_Don't_ say it. Just get your green-blooded, no-longer-comatose ass out of my sickbay. You too, Jim. I don't have the patience for this." He sighed with the air of a particularly exhausted man and waved them away. Spock edged himself out of the sick bed and stood on his feet. His depth perception and hand-eye coordination left something to be desired, he noted, as he accidentally smacked Kirk in the face.

"Hey! I thought you weren't mad!"

"First of all, anger is a human emotion, and second of all, it seems I have not completely regained full use of my extremities."

"Yeah, that's what happens when the doctor pushes you away before he should." He shot a glare back at the doctor. "Of course, it's better than what happens when he can't seem to get enough of you. I swear, I'm going to have scars for the rest of my life from all the hyposprays. Be thankful for what you have, I guess." Kirk slapped him on the back a little too roughly, causing him to wobble forward slightly. The sheepish grin did nothing for the icy glare the captain received.

Spock walked with as much dignity as he could muster from the sickbay, hoping he would be restored to his usual functionality very soon. Already, he could feel his fingers regaining their dexterity and his sight was improving. All things considered, it was a fairly rapid recovery from his first, and hopefully last, coma.

They made their way to the bridge quickly. The various helmsmen, yeomen, and other officers were in their positions with an air of restless unease. Spock spotted Uhura sitting at her station. When she saw him, she gave him a small, concerned smile. In return, he gave her a very faint nod and went to his station to await news from the science department. After a few minutes, a message from them appeared and he opened it.

"Captain, could you join me for a moment?" Kirk looked at him, his eyes very obviously inquiring if it was concerning the spores. He nodded in acquiescence and soon there was a hand on his shoulder as the captain leaned over him to read to message he gestured to. After a few moments, he looked at him with a grim sort of acceptance.

"This says that someone has to climb into the ventilation system and disperse a chemical spray in at least an hour, the last possible moment. Spock, I can't ask a crew member to do it. It's a suicide mission!" he whispered. "This states that the ventilation shafts will be nearly one hundred and fifty degrees. There's no way to fit a climate suit in there. They'll die."

"A human would die, true, but you forget that I am only half human."

"Spock…" Spock watched his captain's eyes search for an alternative.

"Captain, do I need to remind you that the heat will not affect me as it affects you? It is what has to be done. There is no question. Either I do it, or we all perish."

"You're a good First Officer, you know." The hand on his shoulder tensed slightly for a moment. "One condition: when you come back, you have to call me Jim."

"I do not see how-"

"I'm tired of all this 'Captain' business, and that's the only way I'll let you go. So, deal? And I'll play chess with you when this mess is cleared up." Spock resisted the urge to shrug. He was mildly confused by the "deal", which may have been caused by recent events. He took a quick moment to accept that the captain was a fundamentally illogical being and that the intricacies of such a being would be, quite obviously, difficult for him to grasp.

"Yes. It seems I am in no place to object, and seeing as I am what could be considered the last hope for the entire crew, it would be selfish and illogical to disagree based on my aversion to informality."

"That's the spirit." He grinned weakly and clapped him on the shoulder, standing up. "So, we have an hour or so until you get to save all of our lives." He looked around expectantly. "What do we do now?"

"You are the captain. That would be your decision. Despite that, I would suggest that, as there will be a significant rise in temperature, you tell everyone to consume as much water as they can find and space themselves to ensure and even distribution of body heat."

"Right. I'll go do that. Or, rather, I'll tell Chekov to do that. There'd be a couple v's in there, wouldn't there?"

"Yes, but I do not see how that affects anything, unless you are referring to the amusement you find in hearing Ensign Chekov's accent. A rather empty form of amusement."

"Well, what can I say? We're in space. It's not like we can go have a picnic when we're bored or play sports. We find other ways to amuse ourselves, however pathetic they may be." He shrugged and returned to his captain's chair, giving Chekov the order. Spock watched him, dimly aware of a strange realization. For some reason, he knew that despite the shaky start to their friendship (if it could be called that), he placed complete trust in the man who was now doing his best to look like he was sure everything would be fine. Something told him that such trust was illogical, but it seemed like if there was one thing he could be sure of, it was that he could depend on Captain Kirk to do something very unpredictable and without logic, but everything would turn out agreeably.

* * *

And hour later, Spock went for the science department. The chemical spray had been perfected in that time. It had been contained in a pressurized form in a small metal box that he would attach to the inside of the ventilation system where the air vents met in the center of the ship. Once placed, it could be triggered to release the chemical remotely as soon as Spock was clear, as they weren't sure what the effects of it were on humans or Vulcans in high concentrations.

Before long, Spock stood below the open vent he would be climbing into. He glanced briefly at Nyota and the captain, both of whom had shiny, flushed faces from the heat. The metal box in his hand felt strangely heavy. For a split second, he wondered briefly if he was sure that he would be fine, as the temperature readings from inside the vents were now saying it was around one hundred and sixty-five degrees. On Vulcan, he had experience such temperatures, but only for very brief periods, a few minutes at the most. The estimated time it would take to complete the task before him was somewhere around half an hour.

"Spock, are you sure you want to do this?" Captain Kirk asked. Nyota looked very much like she was trying her hardest not to speak.

"It is what must be done," was his distant reply. He purposely avoided eye contact.

"Do you want, you know, a boost?" Spock looked at his captain, whose eyes seemed much harder than he remembered, with complete confusion. Those eyes then darted up to the open hole in the ceiling and he understood.

"That would be satisfactory." He stepped on the intertwined hands hovering about a foot off the ground and placed his hands on the inside of the vent. Shakily, he was lifted enough to get his head, shoulders and arms in. As he began pulling himself up, he felt one of the hands beneath his foot slide up the back of his leg to push him in.

"You're heavy, you know," Kirk complained up at him once he was in. Spock did not grace the pathetic statement with a reply and began the crawl through the vents. It was slow going, given the slipperiness of the polished metal and the heat that was actually starting to get to him. He felt cramped in the dark, buzzing space. Despite the total lack of humidity, he was having slight trouble breathing, his lungs choosing to take in shallow, hollow breaths. Elbows and knees protested the constant light thumping against the very solid inside of the vent.

Twenty minutes later, he found himself in the center of the ventilation system where all the vents met in a star shape. Here, the metal was soft to the touch from the sheer number of spores inhabiting the space. Spock adhered the box of pressurized spray to the very center and began the crawl back, trying to increase his pace. He could tell from the inside of the vents that the temperature had increased since the moment that he entered the metal airshafts. The others might not have much time left before the heat became too much to bear. Finally, he spotted the light that signified the opening he had come through. When he was only a few feet away, he instructed the scientists to remotely release the spray and pushed himself through the opening. He found himself on top of one James T. Kirk, who was panting, his face dripping and flushed. Spock remarked to himself on the oddness, that humans turned pink as opposed to the slightly yellow-green of his own species. That was when he realized the mouth that was several inches from his chin was actually saying something.

Between labored pants, the captain commanded, "For the…love of God…get off of me…you big…green son of a bitch." Spock removed himself before fully realizing what had been said. When the last words hit him, he could feel the heat-fueled rage boiling up from his stomach. Lying exhausted next to him, he looked over and moved his hand to encircle the captain's neck. He squeezed, relishing the helpless look in the other man's eyes, then withdrew his hand reluctantly.

"I believe you just insulted my mother, Capt- Jim. As we are currently disadvantaged by the heat, I will wait a few moments before I cause you to regret what your previous statement."

Coughing, Jim replied, "I didn't mean to…insult your mom. Jesus, Spock, it's an…expression." Spock reflected for a second. He looked around for a moment, finding a tiredly worried-looking Nyota. Panting slightly, she nodded to confirm what had just been said.

"My apologies, Jim. It seems I was unfamiliar with that particular human saying. I would ask you not to repeat the phrase in correlation to me in the future." Spock sighed inwardly and made an attempt to sit up. The air was feeling slightly cooler, which was a very good sign. He looked back at Jim, who was shaking his head in disbelief. He almost cocked his head at the still very odd sight of a pink flush in his shiny cheeks. Humans really were very strange.

"Good job on keeping up your end of the bargain, though," Jim said after a moment. He smiled, a real, pure smile, free of his usual smugness or amusement. It was a smile of pure contentment, one Spock found he enjoyed. This, of course, was due only to the fact that in a happy state, Jim would be more inclined to be friendly with him and therefore their working relationship would improve. It had nothing to do with the slight buzz at his fingertips. That small sensation was doubtless a product of the heat.

* * *

**So, I would first like to thank everyone who reviewed. Oh, and please prepare for an eventual reenactment of the Backrub Scene. It was the first bit of TOS I ever saw, and it was beautiful. If you have not seen it, go on youtube and look it up. Priceless example of the cannonosity of K/S. In any case, expect the next chapter within a few days. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4: Words Don't Travel Far

"It would seem everything has returned to normal." Spock left off the name at the end, not wanting to address his captain so informally on the bridge in front of the other crew members but oddly afraid, no, apprehensive about the idea of addressing him as 'Captain' after their agreement. He wanted to play chess that night, so he was on what could be dubbed as his 'best behavior'.

"Yep. We're back en route to Panonar and we've entered the formula for the chemical spray into the database, so everything is good as far as Starfleet is concerned. We've got about nineteen hours until we get there. Beta crew takes over in…" he checked the console on the captain's chair. "…an hour and a half. I'm thinking we slide in that game I promised right after the end of shift before we pass out from exhaustion?"

"I believe that would be an agreeable plan for this evening. However, I think it would be imperative for me to engage in discourse with Lieutenant Uhura beforehand." For a second, the captain looked shocked, then nodded in appreciation.

"Hey, do whatever you want. I won't get in the way of you getting laid." The look of confusion on his face could not be completely hidden by his Vulcan training. It took a couple seconds for Spock to realize the source of the miscommunication.

"_Discourse_. I stated that I would like to engage in _discourse_ with Lieutenant Uhura. I meant that we needed to have a conversation as opposed to sexual intercourse." He looked at Jim as if mildly in wonder that he had confused the two words. "I believe the appropriate turn-of-phrase that would apply to you in this situation would be 'one-track mind'." Jim's mouth hung slightly open, then he grinned as if he was proud of such a thing. Spock shrugged inwardly and went back to his station, finishing up his third re-read and edit of the captain's report to Starfleet. Technically, he had rewritten so much of it that it could hardly be called the captain's report, but he wanted to make sure it was a shining example of everything Starfleet cared about. Certain high-ranking officials considered the captaincy of James T. Kirk to be probationary, and Spock was not about to give them a reason to complain about his captain. He was loyal, if nothing else, to the things he believed in, and in an odd sort of way, he believed in Jim.

* * *

There was something to be said for an awkward encounter with an assertive woman. At her request, he was in her quarters at the end of their shift.

"Look, Spock, I want to apologize. I should have asked, considering that Vulcans usually don't enjoy physical contact. I overstepped my bounds, and I would like you to know that it won't happen again, unless you want it to. I would rather have a relationship with you without any physical contact than to not be in a relationship with you at all. I…I understand that you may not feel the same way, but I think I love you." Her look was pleading, but there was something fiercely defiant hiding behind her dark eyes. He could honestly say that he had not been anticipating such a statement.

"Fascinating." He saw something in her expression shift, something he could not name. "I would like to pursue such a relationship. It sounds very agreeable." She gave a quick nod and moved in slightly as if to kiss him, but pulled back. "If you will excuse me, I have an appointment to play a game of chess with the captain." The nameless expression from before intensified, but she said nothing. He left with a slight nod. She was a much more confusing being than he had originally thought.  


* * *

As he stood before Jim's door, he gave a very, very small sigh. He had a tiny feeling that something he would not like was about to happen. Nonetheless, he buzzed and the door was answered.

"Hey, Spock. Come in." Hands clasped behind his back, Spock did just that. He sat at the chess board Jim had set up just to the side of the room, choosing the black pieces. Jim sat across from him. "I know you wanted to do the whole thing where I beat you in front of everyone, but I can't play you knowing that you're losing on purpose. So, I figured we could just play in private until I can beat you for real." Spock nodded and made a slight gesture indicating that Jim should move. Their game began slowly, both of them choosing their moves more carefully. The room was entirely silent except for the light tap of the pieces touching the board. That is, until Jim began to talk. "So, how's Uhura?"

"I do not believe she has anything to do with the game at hand." Spock could not decide whether Jim's interest in her was because he wanted to know how his friend was doing or how the girl he liked to flirt with was doing.

"Oh, come on. I'm just trying to be friendly. The only thing I really know about you is her, so she's all I can talk with you about. And I guess I'm still kind of wondering how _you_ managed to get a girl like _that_."

"It should not be surprising that a number of well-educated, rational females might express an interest in a well-educated, rational male." Spock supposed he was a little indignant. As far as Vulcan standards were concerned, he was a very favorable, logical choice of mate, or he would be if he wasn't half human.

"First of all, I don't think there even is such a thing as a 'rational female', and second of all, I wasn't talking about her intelligence. I meant something more along the lines of the fact that she's hot. Really hot." He resisted the urge to shrug. There was nothing about her that he found compelling in the physical sense, the only sense Jim seemed to have. To his standards, she was maybe alright-looking; to Vulcans, attractiveness was centered in the hands, and her hands left something to be desired.

"Our relationship exists on a level other than the physical," he said, his tone implying that that was the only type of relationship Jim was capable of maintaining. "We have an intellectual relationship."

"Uh…how do I say this?" He looked down at the board in thought for a moment. "Don't you think that's a little weird?"

"Excuse me?"

"I just mean…well, what do you mean by not-physical? Like, no sex? Or do you mean no touching?"

Spock did what would have been called a fidget in anyone else. "While there was previously a very slight physical aspect to our relationship, we have both agreed that it would be for the best to eliminate such an aspect."

"Wait, you two broke up?" Jim had his head cocked to the side.

Spock shook his head. "No, we are still in a romantic relationship, we have just agreed that physical contact is unnecessary. At least, that is what I assume from our prior conversation."

"Well, what exactly did you two say?"

"I do not feel comfortable discussing such things."

"What if that's not what was meant? You won't know unless you let me help you. Just tell me what you two said. I do have experience with these things."

Spock went silent for a moment, running his thumb down the side of his knight. "Yesterday in her quarters, we…engaged in osculation, during which time she placed my hand on her…" He focused intently on the knight in his grasp, trying to subdue the warming tingle in the tips of his ears. "…on her breast. I was not comfortable with the contact, so I left the room. This evening, she apologized and said that she would rather be in a relationship without physical contact than not in one at all. I agreed on such a relationship. Also, I believe she mentioned the human emotion of 'love'." He shrugged of the last bit as illogical. Jim shook his head despairingly.

"Wow. I must say, you screwed that one up."

"Excuse me?"

"When a woman says something like that, she wants you to go along with what she did before. Always. She was trying to make you feel guilty. Instead, you went with the literal interpretation and now she's unhappy. What exactly did she say about love?"

"If I remember correctly, I believe she made the comment that she 'loved' me."

A hand went to Jim's temple. "What did _you_ say to that?"

"I found the complexities of her human emotions fascinating, so I voiced them as such."

"Wait, you said it was _fascinating_?" He let out a small, mirthless laugh. "My, you really have fucked the pooch on this one. Let me teach you a little lesson I learned from a special friend: when a woman tells you she loves you, the _only_ acceptable reply is to say that you love her as well. Otherwise, things happen. Or, rather, things _don't_ happen. I knew a girl at the Academy that wouldn't sleep with me again until I told her I loved her back. Actually, she was Uhura's roommate, but that's a different story. But the fact of the matter is that you have to tell them you love them. It's just something you have to say if you want to stay with them."

"It is not the nature of Vulcans to lie." Spock made his move, capturing a white rook. The room was silent for a long time then. One by one, pieces dropped off the board. Spock noticed that his opponent was very deep in thought, and assumed he was simply focused on the game. It was not until he won, though not by nearly so much as before, that Jim spoke.

"I'll help you with her. I'll tell you how to keep her. You just have to do exactly as I say. In these types of situations, I'm the expert, not you."

"I would agree with that statement however I am not fully inclined to accept your assistance in such matters."

"Spock, if you don't let me help you, you're going to lose her. That's just how it is. Logic may work in most situations, but relationships are one of the places where emotion is what prevails. You need my help with that."

He was quiet for a moment. "I will accept your offer to aid me."

"Good. Now what you're going to have to do is go to her and tell her that you really do enjoy touching her and whatnot, but your Vulcan training makes it hard for you to deal with that, at which point you would kiss her, even if it's only for a short time. I'll help you with all the other stuff that'll come up, but for now that's your assignment."

"As I said before, it is difficult for Vulcans to lie, if not impossible."

The very corner of Jim's mouth rose. "Well, good thing you're half human, then. Just try not to think of it as a lie, more of an exaggeration of the truth." Spock nodded, not fully agreeing with what was said. He stood and left without a word. There was an odd cocktail of emotions bubbling beneath the surface of his calm. He was not in the mood to identify the emotions, so he went to bed, making an extra effort to close his mind off before sleep.

* * *

The Enterprise reached Panonar a little more quickly than expected. On orders from Starfleet, Kirk, Spock, and McCoy would be beaming down to the planet's surface. The Admiral believed it to be prudent to send the captain with medical personnel and a keeper of sorts, or at least that was the conclusion Spock drew. The society on Panonar, despite starting out with the common Terran government system of social democracy, had slid into a more hierarchical form of government with a strict custom of formality, at least according to the reports he'd found. No doubt Starfleet wanted to send Spock along to keep the interactions, however minimal, smooth.

"Ready to go, Spock?" Jim asked, checking the phaser in his belt. Spock glanced at the doctor, who was looking slightly perturbed, as was his general state. His hand was grasping his medical bag tightly. Spock nodded in the affirmative. They took their places on the transport pads. Jim looked over at Scotty and gave a small smile. "Energize."

A gentle tingle later, and they were standing in a large hall. It was very modern, in some ways reminding Spock of the interior of some Starfleet buildings. A well-dressed group of middle-aged humans walked over. A conversation began concerning the supplies that were being delivered, possible future shipments, and technological updates that might prove to be necessary, such as those involving communication. Spock found the conversation remarkably boring and slightly irritating and ignored most of it. After all, they were a well-established colony for a widespread and powerful race; there were thousands of similar colonies whose biggest concerns were technology and seeds for particular hard-to-find vegetables. They were not responsible for rebuilding an entire species, _an entire culture_, to be formed on shaky, grieving foundations with half-hearted support from a still largely xenophobic organization. Their troubles were so insignificant compared to those of his remaining species. It hardly made sense for them to be there, supplying new communicators and other trivial things when they could be helping to reconstruct a peaceful species' homeworld.

"Hey, Spock, are you alright?" Jim whispered when they were clear of the colony's council members, who were examining the shipments Scotty was beaming down. McCoy was examining the daughter of one of the council members who had an unidentifiable illness and very much preoccupied with the child.

"Everything is order, Captain. It seems we will be finished shortly."

Jim nodded. "Yep. You wanna go for a walk? We're not really needed. It'll take them at least ten minutes to finish cataloguing the shipments. A little almost-sun will do you good, I think."

"I would like to observe the climate conditions on a Terran colony. A walk would be agreeable." If Spock was not mistaken, he saw Jim roll his eyes as they began walking to the large glass doors that led to outside. If he was correct in his observation of humans, it was a gesture of sarcasm, although he did not see how his previous statement could be interpreted in a sarcastic manner. Then again, it _was_ Jim Kirk making the gesture, so all bets were off, so to speak.

The outside temperature was a little cool for Spock, but still relatively comfortable. The air smelled slightly of condensation and the springy green vegetation he recognized as grass from his time at the Academy. There was a gentle air current and for some reason, Jim was smiling. It was the smaller, less pronounced version of his genuine smile, toothless but oddly enchanting. Spock decided that his…friend (it still felt a little strange to think of him as that) was a puzzle, the sort of enigma he would like to spend hours poring over until he figured every out single little thing about how it worked. He had always enjoyed the mental stimulation of puzzles, and his captain was more stimulating than most. In a purely logical way, of course.

"Look! They have birds! I think those are cardinals. Those were the only type of bird I ever really remembered anyway. It's sort of nice to see a little bit of home." Spock said nothing in reply. There was nothing he could put into words about the feeling of home. "Oh, shit, I've done it again. Look, I didn't really mean it like that. God, I need to learn to think before I speak." Spock gave a nod and continued observing his surroundings. It looked remarkably like Earth. He vaguely wondered if it was possible for New Vulcan to look as similar to the original. He had seen information on the planet they were settling on, and he knew it wouldn't be quite the same. It could never be quite the same, ironically because of the emotion associated with the original. That could never be rebuilt, but over time the generations ahead would forget and it would be as if the original never existed. That thought sent a slight pang through his chest, but he channeled into clenched fists and nails digging into his palms.

"Hey, Spock, let's go back. I think they're done cataloging." He followed the captain back inside, where he exchanged pleasantries with needy humans. The council members left them some space as McCoy came over with his medical bag, assuring them that everyone was in good health. "Scotty, beam us up."

Spock felt oddly numb on the transport pad. It occurred to him that he might not be ready to handle having a position aboard the Enterprise. In many ways, he was still emotionally compromised; there were some emotions that took longer than others to lock away. He stepped off the platform with the others, glancing at Mr. Scott, who was checking something. The three were nearly out the door before he spoke.

"Hold on, Captain. Ah've got three more on thair way." Spock, Jim, and McCoy turned abruptly.

Jim's eyes were narrowed at the transport pads. "Scotty, there shouldn't be anyone else."

"What can ah say? That's what the computer's telling me." The three withdrew their phasers, pointing them carefully at the transport pads. Above each of the three pads they had used grew a swirl of white lights. They waited as the figures finished beaming aboard. When they did, McCoy was the one who best put it into words.

"_What the fucking hell_?"

* * *

_**Dun dun dun...**_** I really must apologize for that horrible little break right there. Anyways, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed so far! I feel ridiculously loved! Well, I think the next chapter is going to be fairly interesting, so I hope that'll be some sort of thank-you. Expect some drama, in any case. **


	5. Chapter 5: Life in Every Word

"_What the fucking hell?_"

On the transport platform, there were three children. All three were male, two were human, and one seemed to be Vulcan. The Vulcan and one of the humans seemed to be about five or six, but the other human was probably around seven or eight. Spock felt that there was something disconcerting about the children. For one, they seemed to be harmless and were smiling a little, or at least the two humans were.

"Bones, you need to watch your language," Jim said, the words coming out slow and uncertain. He took a small step forward. "Hey, kids. Uh, do you know how you got here?" He lowered his phaser a little, crouching down to be more on their level. The younger human puffed his chest out, adopting a smugly defiant expression.

The small voice replied in an all-too-confident tone, "I'm James Tiberius Kirk. Who are you?"

Jim choked. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"_My name_ is James Tiberius Kirk. Are you my dad? Because mommy always shows me these pictures and you look like him. She said he was on a starship, a really big one. Where are we?" Spock was very confused. He took a small step towards the Vulcan child, fighting the feeling that he knew who the child was. It was simply illogical.

"You're on a starship. I'm the captain, but I'm not your dad. You can call me Jim. Where are you from?" Jim had put his phaser in his belt and was kneeling in front of the boy.

"Iowa. You're name is Jim? Mine too! That's so cool!"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is." Jim stared at the child, not sure of what to make of the situation. Spock took the moment to put his phaser away and crouch in front of the Vulcan child.

"Tonk'peh," the tiny Vulcan whispered in greeting.

"T'nar jaral," Spock replied, completely unsure of how to continue. He had not spoken in Vulcan since before he left for the Academy, as most of Vulcan was trying to switch to English by the time he reached his teens. Words and phrases had slipped from his vocabulary, some forced out on purpose during a rebellious phase in his youth.

"Ahmau nash-veh S'chn T'gai Spock," the child said, giving his name to his older counterpart. Spock did not know what to say, as he could not simply give a nickname and Vulcans never named two people by the same name.

"Do you speak English?" he asked, knowing that if the child, who appeared to be himself, had the same or a similar upbringing, he would probably only know a few words, thanks to his mother's influence. The child narrowed his eyes, deep in thought.

"A little. Ko-mekh s-teach…me." The Vulcan frowned slightly. He did not seem to like being unable to find the correct words.

"Goshdarnit! Where are we? Who are all of you? What's going on here?" the eldest child growled, scowling around the room.

"You know what, Bones? I think that might be you," Jim teased. The doctor's eyes were wide.

"Jim, no. This is not possible."

"There's only one way to find out."

McCoy sighed. "We'll go to my sickbay, but I swear, if I find grape jelly or playdough or anything when we're done, it's all your fault, Jim. Somehow, it's all your fault. You're like a magnet for weird sh-stuff."

* * *

In the sickbay, the three boys sat on a sickbed. The one who insisted he be called Jimmy was swinging his legs over the side in boredom, leaning his head from side to side as he hummed an upbeat tune. Bones walked by them, checking first child then adult with the tricorder. When he had finished all six of them, he blinked and put a hand to his temple as if he had a severe headache coming on.

"It's officially weird. Leonard, Jimmy, and…whatever-it-was Spock are _us_. This is impossible on so many levels." He spoke slowly and quietly, glancing at the boys as if he was trying to make sure he didn't say something. Spock assumed he was trying to eliminate profanities from his speech for the sake of the children. "What do we do, Jim? We have to find a way to send them back to wherever they came from. We don't know how they got here or anything. It could be time travel, parallel universes, or I don't even know." Jim seemed to ignore him.

"Hey, guys! Do you want to play on a playground?" Jim leaned down to their level and wore a wide grin.

"Yeah!" Jimmy giggled.

"That's not safe. They're going to end up hurting themselves, and I don't have any bandaids or nothing. Mom always makes me carry bandaids in case the other kids get hurt, but I don't have any this time." The eight-year-old looked a little sad. "Mom says bandaids can fix everything."

"You know what, Leonard? On the way to the playground, Bones here is going to tell you all about something even cooler than bandaids. They're called hyposprays. He thinks they can cure everything, too! He'll tell you all about them." Jim stood upright and waved the kids over to follow him. Leonard fell into step with Bones, asking him about what a hypospray was. Spock ushered along his child self, feeling a deep slice in his abdomen. Sooner or later, the children, like all children, would ask for their parents. It would only be a matter of time.

"Jim, we have a small issue that might require attention," Spock whispered, catching up to the captain.

Jim shook his head. "We _do_ have a playground. Sort of. I can make one of the holographic combat training chambers into a playground with a little creative programming. We're good."

"That was not the issue to which I was referring. You see, when I was a child, my father would not let me learn English until I was nearly nine, as he worried that it would set me apart form my classmates even more than my mixed heritage. Because of this, my younger self has only a very limited vocabulary of the language, from the things my mother would let slip through when my father was away. The other side of the problem is that, as Vulcan began to change its official language to the Federation standard, English, when I was about ten, I have a fairly limited knowledge of the Vulcan language."

"You're telling me that my Vulcan First Officer, who taught xenolinguistics classes at Starfleet and has self-professed higher mental faculties, can't remember how to speak Vulcan? That's bullsh-sugar." Spock steeled himself. He did not like conversations concerning his youth.

"It is more complicated than that. It is not so much that I cannot remember, but that I forgot." He was given a blank look. "As we have more control over our minds, Vulcans are capable of making ourselves omit memories, with sufficient will-power and focus. When I was younger, I went through a phase in which I hated Vulcans due to a series of arguments with my peers. I made the illogical decision to forget most of the Vulcan language when I was approximately twelve."

"Well, do you know enough to communicate with Little Spock?"

"Only in some areas of conversation. I think it would be logical to bring Lieutenant Uhura down for interpretation."

"Oh, so that's what this is about. Why didn't you just say so?" Jim winked knowingly. "Lieutenant Uhura, you're needed," he said into his communicator. Jim stopped at the door to the training room and spent a minute at the console, programming it to do what he wanted. Spock looked back to see his younger self and Jimmy poking each other's ribs. He was a little shocked to see such behavior from himself, even if he was quite young; he thought he knew better than to touch others with his hands when he was that age. It was distasteful. He caught Little Spock's eye and gave him a sharp look and shake of the head. The tiny Vulcan looked down at the floor, his ears turning a darker green, and stopped touching the other child. Spock was momentarily reminded of his father, who would chastise him for being to affectionate with his mother or too emotional in front of others. He felt a little sore at that memory and turned back to Jim, who was typing in the final coding.

* * *

The door slid open and revealed a medium-sized sand-covered room. The walls were programmed to look like open blue sky, and there were benches to one side. A play structure with swings, a slide, and a plethora of sand toys sat in the middle of the room. It was so oddly human, Spock felt like an intruder. On Vulcan, there was no such thing as a playground, and he had not seen one until he had been at the Academy for a couple years. There was something poignant about the perfect little scene. He could almost see himself there, playing in the sand with his mother. It was a scene from another life, one in which he was raised on Earth, a life where his mother could still be alive. It was false. Illogical. He tried to put it from his mind.

All of the six filed in, followed very shortly by Uhura. Jim told the children to go play for a little while. The four adults went to the benches, watching from a little way off so they could converse freely about the situation without raising alarm.

"Captain, why are there children?" Uhura asked, taking a seat next to Spock. "Did they come from Panonar?"

"We have no idea. Just after we beamed up, they followed. The thing is, these kids, they're _us_. As _children_. I'm not sure how old they all are, but I'm at least five. We're not sure how to send them back to wherever they came from yet, but we need your help translating for Little Spock so we can figure out where they came from."

"Translating?" She sent Spock a questioning look, which he replied with a very quiet _"I'll explain later"._

He watched the children play. Jimmy was trying to go down the slide head-first, but Leonard was attempting to tell him how badly he could get hurt doing so, then threatening that he wouldn't help he after. Little Spock, as he decided to call his younger self, was looking at the slide curiously, as if trying to divine its purpose. Jimmy began talking to him, although it was clear Little Spock couldn't understand, and demonstrated how to go down the slide. Leonard stood at the top of the slide with his arms crossed against his chest as if he was above such things. The tiny Vulcan looked down at Jimmy from the top of the slide and shook his head, afraid for some reason. Jimmy climbed up the slide and made him sit at the top, seating himself behind him. He pushed them both down the slide, landing in a heap at the bottom. They began to wrestle, Little Spock unsure at first if it was a deliberate attempt to harm him, but then they fell into a friendly, playful tussle. Spock felt his fingernails dig into the flesh of his palm impulsively. His whole body went rigid. He was brought up better than that, better than fooling around in the sand and _touching_ others.

"Spock, what's wrong?" Uhura whispered, looking from the children to his face.

"He should not be acting in such a manner. I was raised according to Vulcan customs. His behavior is downright barbaric," he hissed, pointing with his chin at his child self who was pulling Jimmy over to the swings by his _hand_. Spock's teeth clenched. If his father were here, that child would be wishing he had never so much as looked at the playground.

"They're just children. That's what children do: they play." She watched them for a moment. "I don't know, Spock. For now, I would just let him do what he's doing. He doesn't know where he is and his parents aren't here; if you say something, you could scare him."

Jim leaned over to Spock. "Hey, look, our little kid-selves like each other! They're actually a lot friendlier than when you and I first met." Spock did not respond. He watched as Little Spock and Jimmy swung higher and higher. They jumped from their swings and he flinched. It was nearly unbearable to see himself acting in such an uncivilized manner, as if he was no longer Vulcan. For a second, he felt almost as if he envied him, but he shut the notion down as soon as it sprung up. The young Vulcan was holding Jimmy's hand at the top of the slide. Spock stood up. He felt Nyota's hand on his arm and took his seat again.

He turned to her, misplaced anger straining his whispered words. "Are you witnessing his actions? He should know what they mean! I was not brought up to act in such a way." Her eyes grew wider, her face settling into an expression he couldn't place.

"Spock, what's wrong?" Jim asked, resting his hand on his shoulder. Spock whipped his head around.

"_Noth_ing," he ground out. He stood, mentally shaking himself out, and began pacing. It was a behavior he had always found to be pathetically human, but he could not stop himself. He _knew_ that when he was a child he knew enough of Vulcan customs to know that his actions were wrong. It was…he was ashamed to say it, but it was _embarrassing_ to watch his younger self completely disregard his Vulcan upbringing in such a way.

He stopped. Maybe he was wrong. It was true that when he was that age, he had a tendency to follow his human impulses and often disregarded the will of his father, the will of the Vulcan mindset. That could be the reason for his illogical, overly-emotional behavior. He looked back at Little Spock. The Vulcan was _giggling_, sliding down the slide on his stomach, and _giggling_. Spock shook his head slightly and sat down again. After all, it was not _his_ behavior that was out of line. He did not need to take it so personally. He almost laughed. Spending time on the Enterprise seemed to be making him almost humanly emotional.

"Are you done freaking out yet?" Jim asked, sounding mildly concerned.

"I was doing nothing of the sort."

"Go on, deny it, but that was the Vulcan version of a complete meltdown. Seriously, what's wrong?"

"I seems as if I was incorrect in my assumption about the level of education of my younger self." That was all he would say on the matter, whether to Jim or Nyota. McCoy didn't really seem to be paying attention, as he had been showing Leonard a hypospray after the child had grown bored of the slide. Jim checked his PADD, typing furiously. Spock tried to simply ignore everything. He turned his attention once again to Little Spock and Jimmy, trying to view his younger self as a human child. The two little boys were sitting closer to the adults than before and trying to talk to each other, which was made difficult by the language barrier.

"You can be my best friend," Jimmy was saying, "I don't have one of those, but you're pretty cool. Much better than Sam. He's a butthead. And my brother. But you're better than him." Little Spock cocked his head in confusion. Spock noticed that there was sand in his otherwise pristine hair. "You're really quiet. That's okay. I can talk enough for both of us. What's your name, anyway? Mine's Jimmy."

Little Spock took a moment to grasp the meaning of the question. "S'chn T'gai Spock," he answered.

Jimmy tried a few times to say his first name, but failed. "I'll just call you Spock. It's kinda a weird name, but that's okay. It's kinda cool. _My best friend, Spock_. It sounds okay. We're gonna be the bestest friends ever, you know. I can tell." Spock heard Jim let out a little snort, but he wasn't sure if it was caused by his younger self's statement or not. Jimmy suddenly hugged Little Spock, causing the older Vulcan to flinch. Such contact was uncommon, so he was more than surprised when he younger self returned the gesture.

"That's so sweet!" Nyota sighed, nudging his leg.

Jim looked up. "Aw…look, we're friends. Don't expect any hugs from me, though," he remarked coolly. Spock could not understand how neither one of them saw the blatant disregard for Vulcan etiquette. A hug was something his younger self would _definitely_ know not to do. Not even his mother hugged him, unless he was physically crying. The two children broke their hug.

"We should go on an adventure sometime. I like to go on adventures. That way I don't have to be around Frank anymore. He's my stepdad. But I don't like him much. He's not very nice to me." Spock felt Jim stiffen slightly beside him. He made a mental note to remember that Jim's stepfather was a 'sore subject'.

Suddenly, Nyota was gone from her place on the bench and kneeling in front of Little Spock. She was talking to him very quietly. Jim nudged him, drawing his attention to the PADD. Spock corrected his phrasing on the beginning of the report he was writing.

"Spock…?" Her voice sounded choked and distant. He had the feeling that she was talking to both of the Spocks at once. She stood without looking back at him and left. He thought for a moment that he heard a soft sob. It was almost duty, he knew, to go and help her, to stop her from crying, but he could not bring himself to move. She had seemed like she wanted nothing to do with him, and in all honesty, there was not much he could do for her. There never really was much he could do for her, and he had no idea of what happened in the first place.

"Spock? _Spock_?" Jim's voice brought him back.

"Yes?" He looked at him briefly, then turned to their younger counterparts. Little Spock was crying, tiny glass-like tears falling down his face, but his expression was determined. He had his arms wrapped around Jimmy in a way that made Spock ache for some reason.

"What's going on? What's wrong with Uhura?"

"I could not say." His voice sounded strangely as if it came from someone else. What was happening? "I-" He stood and left, completely confused. Something happened, and he _knew_ what it was, it just wouldn't come to him. It was floating somewhere in his subconscious, the key to everything, but it was as if he was dueling with himself for it. There was something, a word, a phrase, that set her off, and he had to have heard it as well, he knew that he had heard it, but it seemed as if he would not let himself remember. He needed peace, he needed clarity, and he needed to push everything away again. He needed everything to go back into its little logical box where he could label and analyze it without ever having to come in contact with it.

* * *

Spock found himself with his back against the cool metal wall of the hallway, leaning against it as if it could support him. It was illogical. He righted himself and drew in deep breaths. The oxygen had an almost calming effect. The pieces of…something were pulling themselves back together again and he felt himself regaining control.

"Hey, there you are!" He turned, finding Jim walking around the corner of the hallway. "You okay? What happened back there?"

"Nothing. Everything is perfectly normal and completely under control. Is Doctor McCoy watching the children?"

"Yeah, Bones is taking them back to the sickbay. Did you find her, though? Is she alright? She looked a bit upset."

"I have not spoken with Lieutenant Uhura, and I have no clue as to what has upset her. Did my younger self give any inclination as to what happened?"

He shook his head. "No. Are you sure you're alright? You look a little pale. Maybe you should go lay down or something. I'll go watch the kids with Bones." His hand found Spock's arm. "You've had a trying couple of weeks, and it's perfectly fine if you need to take some time to yourself." He walked away, knowing that someone should have said something, but the answer to that was added to the list of things he would have to figure out later.

In his quarters, he found himself pulling up a holo-screen and sending a transmission to New Vulcan. When the strikingly familiar face appeared in front of him, he already had some clue of what to say. "Spock."

"I must say that this is unexpected," the older man replied, the corners of his eyes crinkling a little.

"I figured that as you are an older, alternate version of myself, you might want to know about a younger, possibly-alternate version of myself."

An eyebrow raised in a gesture he knew well from his own face. "I must admit, my interest is piqued. Do explain how this came about."

"We beamed up from a colony today, that is, myself, Jim, and Doctor McCoy. Shortly after, younger versions of ourselves beamed up as well. The child-versions of Jim and myself were between the ages of five and six, while that of the doctor was approximately eight."

"Oh really? What were their childhoods like?"

"They are not from your timeline, as Jimmy spoke of a stepfather, mentioning that his mother told him that his father was on a starship. I take that to mean that he is dead in their timeline."

"Jimmy? Is that what you have decided on calling the younger Jim?" There was a sort of curious amusement in his tone.

"He called himself as such, and we obliged. The young McCoy is addressed as Leonard, and, as my first name is unpronounceable to most humans, my younger self has been dubbed 'Little Spock'." Spock Prime gave a little chuckle at that, causing his younger counterpart to flinch at the show of emotion.

"Oh? And how is this 'Little Spock' then?"

"He…he makes me question things. He was on the ship for exactly eighteen minutes before he began acting as a human child would. All the training from father slipped so easily."

"What did he do?"

"He just…kept touching Jimmy. _He held his hand_. I could have sworn I was better than that at that age. I knew what it meant when I was that young, I had seen father and mother touching hands, and father told me of the significance. And I would have never hugged another child. Then…something happened. While I was helping Jim with the report, Nyota…she stood suddenly and spoke to him, then she left, crying. I was supposed to go after her, but I remained. I do not understand."

"Well, it was not your responsibility to go after her."

"But it was! It was what she expected, what Jim expected, and what I should have done, as her…I have no idea what we are."

He looked surprised. "You and Lieutenant Uhura are involved?"

"Yes, of course. Were you and she not involved in your reality?"

"No, we were never more than colleagues. In fact…never mind. That is not something I need to burden you with for the moment. But all the same, do you not know was said that resulted in her tears?"

"I have no idea. I feel as if I do know, but I cannot bring it forth. It is...puzzling."

"Is it possible that it is because you do not _want_ to?"

He thought for a moment. "Yes, I suppose it could be possible, but I cannot imagine what could have been said that would provoke such a response." He stared at the other Spock for a moment. "Why, may I ask, were you and Lieutenant Uhura never involved?"

Spock Prime looked as if he was choosing his words carefully. "During the time that I knew her, I was always either in love with or involved with someone else."

"Who would that be?"

"That is not for me to say at the moment, it is what a friend of mine would call 'spoilers', but I will tell you some day. Right now, though, you seem agitated. What is troubling you?"

"If it was so easy for Little Spock to act as if he were human, could I do the same?" He was almost ashamed of his question, feeling very like he was small again and standing before his father, asking a similar question about his future.

"I think the important question is, do you want to? You have gone through much more, emotionally, than I had when I was your age. You have dealt with it in different ways than I have. People have always told you that you have choice, one that you never felt you truly had. Humans find you to be too logical, Vulcans too emotional. Maybe, Spock, what you need to do is to try being _you_, instead of wholly either species. You know very well that you will never be able to fully assimilate; why try at all? Perhaps you should try simply doing what you think is best."

"I see your logic." He looked down for a moment, wanting to change the subject for some reason. "How is New Vulcan doing?"

"As well as can be expected. We have a population of nine thousand and forty three, fewer than we first thought, but everyone is contributing a strong effort to rebuild. It may be a few months before we have completed our first permanent settlement."

Spock allowed himself a small fidget in the presence of himself. "Is- Have you heard if T'Pring has survived? Just so that I might make accommodations for the future."

"I have inquired of such from our father, who replied in the negative. If you would like, I could find you a suitable mate for replacement, or you could find one on your own. I might suggest the latter, as it would be unfortunate to be stuck with the wrong mate."

"May I inquire as to what you mean by that?"

"I mean simply that I was thankful that in my time I did not have to mate with T'Pring, instead resolving matters through an encounter with Jim." Spock paled at first, then felt all his blood rush back to fill his face, making him slightly light-headed and a lot greener.

"Excuse me? Could you please clarify that statement? It almost sounded as if you implied that I-I-you mated with…_Jim_."

There was slight twitch at the corner of Spock Prime's mouth. "I neither said nor implied such a thing. We both know there are other ways to clear such things up. As it so happened, T'Pring had chosen another mate and named Jim as my opponent. McCoy injected him with something that caused to appear to be dead, and the shock of believing that I had killed him released me from my predicament. That is what I meant. Though, in a brief moment of weakness and concern, he did _offer_. Of course, then he was not sure that we would make it to Vulcan in time and no one else suitable was available." Spock squeezed his eyes shut.

"There are several questions that come to mind from your previous statement, but I am not in a state to voice them. I will merely say that I will inform you if I require a mate from New Vulcan. I believe that is all I require of you at this moment. Do you have any more need of me?"

"If it is not too much of an inconvenience, you could ask Jim to send me a transmission sometime. I…I miss him, or at least I miss my own Jim." There was a look of deep sadness on his older self's face, burning and melting at once. It was not something he should be a witness to. Spock nodded and cut off the transmission, resigning himself to sleep. Sleep usually helped him sort out his emotions, and he counted on it.

* * *

**Alrighty, so, now that I have that done, I have a question for anyone who is reading: would you rather I break continuity and include a chapter from Nyota's pov to show what happened (and it is relatively big), or would you prefer that Spock finds out later, whether through himself or her? I'm kind of torn...so, I guess I would appreciate feedback on that.** **And thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far! I never thought so many people would care that much, but thank you!**


	6. Chapter 6: Don't Turn Out Wrong

**A/N: Sorry this took so long, everyone. Okay, after everyone gave their input (which I am ecstatic about, by the way), I have come to a decision: I'm not going to break consistency to insert a chapter from Nyota's pov. There is a possibility that I will write the chapter (actually, it's half-written) and post it in another story. If I do so, I will let you know in case you would like to read it, and if not, you can find out what happened when Spock does. That said, and I would like to apologize for the long Author's Note, here's the chapter.**

* * *

Spock's first mission after waking up and getting dressed was to go to the sickbay and check on the children. To be honest, he was concerned that Little Spock was cold, and considering the temperatures on the ship, that was likely. One corner of the sickbay was completely dark, and McCoy was trying to keep his only couple of patients quiet, presumably so that the children could sleep. Spock greeted him with a firm nod and walked quietly to the darkened corner. The three boys were sleeping on two beds that had been pushed together. Leonard was scowling in his sleep, his eyes flicking back and forth beneath his lids. The other two were beneath a blanket, and Spock's younger self was shivering very slightly. He didn't appear to be too cold, as he was snuggled against Jimmy in a manner most unfitting a Vulcan. Spock resisted the urge to wake them and went to find the captain.

Jim was in his command chair, watching a mix of Alpha and Beta crew go about their normal business. Spock noticed that he seemed reckless, drumming long fingers on the arm of the chair and turning his head at any sign of movement from the crew. The PADD in his lap looked as if it had been abandoned a while before. Spock wondered idly how long he'd been awake.

"Captain? Has there been any progress made as to ascertaining the reasons behind the appearance of our three extra passengers?" He stepped forward, standing in line with the captain's chair. Panonar stood large and blue through the view screens; they had not left orbit.

"No. We can't find any reference to it happening before. Scotty's still looking over the equipment to find a malfunction. Hopefully that'll be the case and we can leave orbit. Our…extra passengers are a little creepy."

"While I generally refrain from using the trivial terms humans seem to be fond of, I would have to agree with that assessment. They seem to act very strangely." Kirk turned his head and looked at him, eyes wide.

"How do you mean?" His expression was so ingenuous; it was as if he hadn't noticed the young half-Vulcan's behavior.

"I suspect that the recent exposure to humans that my younger self has experienced has had a much larger influence on him than I had previously imagined." His statement was met with a confused expression. He explained, "When I was young, the only human who had any influence on me was my mother, who, despite being human, was a very logical, compartmentalized being. I did not encounter a being that freely experienced emotion until I joined Starfleet. In this case, my younger self has encountered more than one such emotional being in his more formative years. I fear that it might have a lasting effect on him."

Jim gave him an incredulous look. "Are you saying that having playtime with my younger self is making your younger self _too emotional_?" Spock considered this for a moment and gave a sharp nod, causing Jim to grin. "I didn't know I had such an effect on you."

"You could logically conclude from past events that you have an uncanny ability to bring out my emotions. Of course, that would require logical thinking, and I am quite aware that such a thing might be too much for your mental capacity to handle." Jim's temporarily hurt expression made him almost regret his words, but it was not something he could take back. He had maybe spoken a little more roughly than he had intended, due to the offensive and vaguely upsetting implications his captain had voiced.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to make you get all touchy and whatnot. Want to go check on them? I haven't yet this morning." Spock wasn't sure what it was, but for some reason, he didn't want Jim to see the children.

"I doubt that your presence would be necessary. I would assume that they are sleeping soundly. Doctor McCoy will most likely alert us if they were to wake up."

"I know, I know, but I'd still like to see them. Besides, we should probably wake them up anyway. We'll need to find out where they come from." Jim rose from the chair and began pulling Spock to the turbolift.

"How would you propose we do that? They're hardly able to string together full sentences. We probably know more than they do." Jim pushed the button for the level containing the sickbay. Spock grimaced internally at how easily he had been coerced.

"If they really can't figure it out, you could always do that Vulcan thing."

"I highly doubt a nerve pinch would serve any purpose."

"No, not that. The thing where you put your hands on someone's face and do weird stuff in their brain." There really was not amount of Vulcan training that could contain his surprise.

"I would assume that you are referring to the mind meld. I would be very interested to know how you found out about that particular Vulcan ability." The brief moment of silence told him that the next words he heard would be a lie.

"Oh, you know, I just sort of thought it would be a good idea to find out more about my crewmembers and all that, and I stumbled across something about mind melds. It was a really interesting article, actually."

Spock nearly sighed. "I would advise that you invest on improving your ability to tell lies. Can I safely assume that my older alternate self told you about the mind meld and that the reason you did not specify this was because he wrongfully implied that the world would end if I knew of his existence?" Jim choked, something he would have found amusing if he let such things amuse him.

"Uh, yeah, kinda. I mean, he didn't really explain too much, he just sort of dived in there, but yeah, that's how I found out about it." It was Spock's turn to choke on someone else's words.

"He preformed a _mind meld_ on _you_?" Spock had stopped the lift and was staring at Jim full-force. The captain looked a little uneasy, but he was hiding something behind his eyes. His illogical eyes, because if it were possible for eyes to be illogical, Spock decided _his_ were.

"Well, yeah, when you marooned me on Delta Vega, he saved me and he wanted to show me. I got the feeling out alternate-universe selves had done it plenty of times before." Jim gave him a sloppy, tacked-on grin. "It's no big deal, you know." Spock's breath caught in his throat. It was such an obscene idea, to meld minds with Jim, but it was only as obscene as he let it be. If the captain had no idea of how personal such a thing was, then everything could go smoothly.

"It seems as if such a thing were necessary," he breathed, pressing the button to restart the lift and hoping that his lie was not as obvious as it felt.

"I mean, it wasn't so bad. A bit weird, you know, but whatever." Spock hardly acknowledged this distracted, blank admission, trying his best to focus on the matter at hand. His reactions could be saved for a private moment in his quarters where he could piece himself back together again without anyone being the wiser.

"I would prefer not to perform a mind meld on any of the children, but I will do so with my younger self if it is required to ascertain how to send them back to where they came from." Jim nodded. They stepped off the lift and walked rather quickly to the sickbay. "I would advise that we perhaps wait until they have fully woken and consumed a meal before we speak to them. A change of clothes might be in order as well, not to mention some form of bathing." His advice did not slow Jim one bit.

"Yeah, we'll wake them and see to all of that. I'd prefer if we keep them mostly secret. They just seem like they could be a distraction to the crew," Jim decided, opening the door to the sickbay. Spock could not doubt the logic of such a statement. What they found confirmed his suspicions: a flock of female crewmembers were crowded around the back of the room, where Spock recalled the three boys having been sleeping earlier. The women were making all sorts of cooing noises while McCoy stood off to the side with an air of defeat. As the captain and first officer approached, he gave them a despairing look.

"I tried, Jim. I really tried. I was busy and I didn't see Nurse Chapel go over. Before long, there was a crowd. I couldn't stop them." Jim squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, composing himself, then marched over.

"Hey, ladies," he began, causing all of the women to turn and give him sheepish grins. "Look, we need to give the kids some space. They've been through a lot, and we're not sure how much trauma may have occurred. Any moment, one of them could suddenly snap and turn dangerous. We need to keep quiet about them because we can't have them disturbed by other people. Who knows, someone else could appear and it might trigger deep psychological issues. We can't know for sure. So, for their sanity and your safety, I'm going to have to ask you all to leave for the moment and not tell people about these kids." A chorus of 'yes, captain's and they were gone. Spock joined Jim in front of the three kids. Jimmy looked like he had been enjoying the attention. He noticed distractedly that the blond boy had his arm around a particular young half-Vulcan who was sitting next to him, but he tried his best to ignore his younger self's careless behavior.

"I am surprised they appeared to believe your story, Captain."

"I guess they're pretty gullible. My unbelievable charm may have had an effect as well." Jim shot him a grin causing McCoy to roll his eyes.

"Great. Problem solved. Now we just have a plethora – yes, a plethora – of issues that still need to be addressed, such as-"

"Bones, Bones, Bones, you need to relax. I've got everything under control. Leave everything to me." He flipped open his communicator and addressed Chekov, "Ensign, I need you to give a ship-wide announcement for me. Tell everyone that one of the replicators in the mess hall is about to explode and there's going to be spinach and cheese casserole everywhere, and that we need everyone to clear the area immediately for at least an hour. Got it?"

"Da, Keptin. But-"

"Good. Kirk out." He turned to McCoy and Spock with a smug little smile. "See? We can take them to get some food without a problem now. Everything's going to be fine."

"Jim, you know that psych eval you've been skipping? I think it's time-"

"I'm _fine_, okay? Just a little tired, that's all. It's not a problem. Right now, we have other priorities. We need to get these kids fed, or pretty soon we'll have a temper tantrum on our hands. You know all about those, don't you?"

"No need to get snarky, you're just acting a little off. But, yeah, we should get them fed," he murmured, looking over at the three boys. Leonard and Little Spock had begun arguing, or the equivalent for two children who were not speaking the same language. Jim pried them away from each other and began corralling them towards the door. When they had all the children out of the door, Jim caught Spock's eye.

He mouthed, "_Did you talk to her yet_?" Spock considered not responding, but decided that it could be more polite to do so. He shook his head, earning an eye roll. "_You should_._ Remember what I told you to say earlier? It wouldn't hurt._" Spock nearly rolls his own eyes. Relationship advice from James T. Kirk…the irony did not escape him.

The mess hall was cleared, thanks to Chekov's little announcement, and Jimmy ran, giggling, into the middle of the room in childish amusement. A second's hesitation later, and Little Spock followed, making a noise that almost resembled a laugh. It was not a pleasant noise to the ears of his older counterpart. Jim was grinning as usual, Spock noticed, and McCoy wasn't bothering to hide his distaste for the way his younger self joined the two younger boys.

"Hey, what do you guys want for breakfast?" Jim asked, wearing the grin McCoy would describe as 'shit-eating'. "Pancakes? You can have any type of pancakes you want!"

"Yeah! I want chocolate chip! You should get chocolate chip, too, Spocky!" Jimmy yelled while doing an excited dance. "We can be matching! It'll be _awesome!_"

Little Spock cocked his head, his speech hesitant. "What is 'pancakes'?"

"They're really yummy. Right, Mr. Captain Jim Sir?" Jim chuckled at the title.

"Yeah, that's right, Jimmy. I'll get you two some pancakes. Leonard, what do you want for breakfast?"

Leonard shrugged. "I just want me some cereal. Howabout those crispy rice things? Those are good. With chocolate milk, though, not normal milk." Spock noticed a playful smile tugging on his captain's lips as he went over to the replicator. McCoy sat at a table without comment and Spock followed, blinking as the three boys sat next to them. It seemed that Jimmy was the sort of child who liked swinging his legs when he was happy, and the older Spock found this trait to be mildly irritating but not at all surprising. He looked over at the boy, attempting to still him.

"Hey, you have really funny ears. They're all pointy and whatnot. And you're kinda green. Are you an alien?" Jimmy asked, blue eyes wide in curiosity.

"I am a Vulcan, much like your new friend. To you, I am an alien, but Vulcans and humans have coexisted for a long time now." The attempt at simplification was more difficult than he had imagined, but the younger Captain Kirk understood.

"So, you're like Spock?" He nodded in agreement. "Cool. He's pretty awesome. My best friend, you know? I've never really had one before him cause my brother doesn't like me much. Mom doesn't either. I mean, she tries to, but I can tell. It's okay, though. She's better than Frank, that's for sure. Ooh, are we gonna get our pancakes yet?"

"Soon. The Captain will bring them shortly." Spock looked across the table at McCoy, who met his eyes and deepened his scowl. It seemed that the captain might have had a few issues when he was younger. Spock turned his gaze to the other side of the room, to Jim. He was rearranging plates on a tray. Spock was struck by how little he truly knew about he captain. All of his knowledge of the man was what he had seen, observed, mentally catalogued. He hardly knew a thing about him from Jim himself, the source. It was something that he felt he should remedy, preferably as quickly as possible. With that thought spinning in his brain, he watched Jim walk over bearing the tray of food, pass out plates of pancakes and a bowl of cereal, and nudge him to scoot over so that he could sit in his seat, across from the doctor. Spock found a plate of pancakes in front of him and gave Jim a questioning eyebrow quirk.

"I thought it might be a nice to try something different, so I got all of us chocolate chip pancakes as well. Come on. Sample a simple Terran delicacy. Live a little." For some reason, Spock decided to try the pancakes. Of course, he was educated enough to know that he needed to pick out all of the chocolate chips and scrape off the dark brown syrup he assumed was of the same substance. "What are you doing? The point of chocolate chip pancakes _is_ the chocolate."

"I have personal reasons for preferring not to consume chocolate. It has adverse effect on my species."

"Um, what?"

"It is of no importance. The result is that I do not consume chocolate. There is no need to focus your attention on the matter."

"Oh really?" Jim asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm, but he understood that Spock would not be sharing. "Fine. You'll tell me later." Pretty soon, his mouth was full of pancakes with chocolate dribbling down his chin. It should have been disgusting, but for some reason, Spock found it amusing.

"Oh, for Christsakes, Jim! Can you keep your food in your mouth while you eat it?" McCoy reprimanded. Spock looked from his Jim, or, the older Jim to be more precise, to the younger version. It was strangely entertaining to see that Jim had not changed his eating habits at all since he was a child. Spock took a small, chocolate-free bite of his pancakes, finding them to taste overwhelmingly sweet. He was not accustomed to the paste-like, thick texture on his tongue, but swallowed. The bite assured him of one thing: there was a good reason he did not enjoy Terran cuisine.

"I…like this _pancakes_." Spock turned to the tiny voice and was mildly startled by what he saw. The younger half-Vulcan was looking a little more green and smiling, his eyes switching in and out of focus as if he wasn't sure what to focus them on. The sight was odd, almost surreal. He felt Jim leaning forward at his side.

"What's with Little Spock? He looks a little weird."

Spock cast an assessing glance at his younger self. "That would be the chocolate affecting him. He should not turn violent or too distracting. It is of no significance." Little Spock began singing a song that he recognized from his childhood as a device for learning the periodic table.

"Is _he_…_singing_?"

"I believe so."

"And this is 'of no significance'?" he asked with a dubious smirk aimed at Spock. "Are we both looking at the same child? Are you aware that this child, your…_fellow Vulcan_ is _singing_, of all things?"

"Yes, that would be an accurate assessment of the situation."

Kirk scratched his head. "Do you see where that might be a little…unusual? You know, considering your personality."

"Vulcans appreciate music as much as humans, although the particular song he is singing would indicate that he is studying."

"_Studying_? He's singing."

"Yes. I believe you are familiar with mnemonic devices? Terran primary schools utilize them quite often, so it is likely you have come across such devices in your education."

"Yeah, I mean, everyone knows 'Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally', but that's not the same thing, and you know it isn't. He's singing _joy_fully. Like a child. Is this what chocolate does to Vulcans? Makes them happy?"

"It can have that effect, yes." Jim was grinning like he had won some sort of prize. "Am I to assume that this pleases you in some way?"

"Nah…I wouldn't say I'm _pleased_, so to speak," he said smugly. "More like…tickled. Yep. Tickled pink."

"I do not understand. I have not had contact with you in such a way that it might be misconstrued as this 'tickling', and I fail to see how the color pink has to do with anything." Jim grinned and Spock noticed that McCoy had his head in his hands, muttering something.

"Are you sure about that?" There was something in his tone that Spock found a little off-putting.

"Yes, I am quite certain-"

"Relax, I was just messing with you. Eat your pancakes." Spock was confused, but that was not something unusual when Jim Kirk was involved. He had picked up that the captain had a tendency to share private jokes with himself and would sometimes make comments that made no sense to someone who wasn't informed of the joke.

"Mr. Jim? I'm done. Spock is, too. He's acting kinda funny, though, but I like it. I think Leonard is done, too."

"Okay, Jimmy. We're all going to go back to the sickbay now. You're going to spend some time with Bones-"

"Goddammit, Jim!" McCoy hissed, his voice barely audible. "You are not sticking me with babysitting duty again! I have a job, an important job, and I can't have three distractions running around my sickbay."

"Nevermind, guys. We're going to go on a little field trip to the bridge."

"But, Captain! I thought we agreed-"

"They'll be fine. The bridge crew is smart enough not to be distracted."

"I do not believe intelligence has any impact on their ability to ignore unnecessary distractions, such as these children. It would be unwise to take them to the bridge."

"Yeah. Unwise, but fun. Let's go!" Without any hesitation, Jim ushered all three children out the door and into a turbolift. Spock and McCoy followed, wary of the idea.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," McCoy grumbled.

"I would have to agree. It is not at all productive to bring the children to the bridge." MCCoy then grumbled something unintelligible and doubtlessly negative, as usual.

* * *

** A little filler, but it'll get to the good stuff in the next chapter. Sorry about that. But, anyways, I hope you enjoyed it. Many thanks to everyone who reviewed!  
**


	7. Chapter 7: I'll Feel My World Crumbling

Spock would have walked back out of the room if he had possessed less self-control. Jim's little three-child parade onto the bridge drew as many eyes as he had anticipated, most notable were those of the Communications Officer who turned back to her station immediately once she saw what was going on.

"May I have your attention please?" Jim asked of the bridge crew, very aware that he already had it. "So, these kids are going to be staying with us for a little while. The blond is Jimmy, the Vulcan is Spock, and the oldest one is Leonard. Don't say anything. So, they're going to be here until we can find out how to send them back to wherever they came from. If anyone is good with kids, let me know. We're setting up a babysitting detail. Really, I just want everyone to be aware that it is a sensitive situation and that we'll be back on schedule as soon as possible. Oh, and try not to fawn over them too much."

"Keptin, I beliewe zat I might be of assistance. I hef three younger sisters, so I hef some experience."

"Awesome. You can take first shift now, since we're not really going anywhere and don't need a navigator. Just take them somewhere. Your quarters, a holodeck, whatever."

"Aye, Keptin," Chekov said, rising from his seat. To the elder Spock's dismay, the younger Vulcan edged away from him, burying his face in the captain's leg. A very soft "aw" spread throughout the room as Jim tried to disentangle the boy from his leg.

"Go on, Spock. Go play with Jimmy and Leonard and Chekov. I have to work now. Okay?" The young Spock did not fully understand, but Jimmy went over and tugged at his sleeve to pull him away, and he followed obediently. A minute later, Chekov and the three boys were in the turbolift and Kirk was seated in his captain's chair. His stare urged everyone back to work despite the interruption. Spock hesitated as he sat at his station. He believed it would be prudent to speak with Nyota as soon as possible, but was unsure of how to do so. He pushed the personal matter aside and focused on his work, searching databases, poring over old reports, and dredging for any sort of information he could find on appearances of younger, alternate selves. Four hours later, he still had nothing. It seemed their particular phenomenon was entirely unique.

"Captain, I have found no references to our specific dilemma in any database. Has Mr. Scott made contact with you regarding the matter?"

"Nope. Not yet. I think it might help if we knew more about what happened to the kids. Why don't you and Lieutenant Uhura question them?" It seemed like an innocent suggestion, but Spock recognized a message of sorts in his gaze. It was an opening, an excuse for him to figure out what was wrong with Nyota. He allowed a very subtle expression of gratitude to cross his features before nodding and walking to the turbolift, where he was joined by the communications officer.

"Spock-"

"Nyota, I would like to first say that I love you. I am deeply sorry for any trouble that may have been caused by my younger self, but I would like to remedy the situation if possible. I addition, I will say that if you wish, we may resume physical contact. I find our interactions to be very agreeable, but I was hesitant because such things were against my nature." Spock read her face, trying to see if she found his admission to be satisfactory. In all actuality, she appeared strangely blank.

"I really, really do love you, Spock. I want nothing more than to continue our relationship. I'll always be there for you, you know." He could tell that there was something hiding between her words, but found her answer to be what was supposed to be said, so he ignored the feeling. He looked over at her, struck by the strange thought that she looked broken. He kissed her for that, softly, as if performing the action despite his discomfort could make things right.

"No," she whispered. "I'm not going to do that to you. You don't need to lie to me or force anything anymore. I won't make you, I can't make you keep doing it."

"I do not understand."

"Everyone has their place." She paused a moment, looking over him quizzically. "A…predetermined set of coordinates, if you will. It just turns out that our coordinates are not adjacent. If I were to continue trying to force us closer, it might just be enough to pull you away from where you should be, where you were meant to be because that place, that set of coordinates, could enable you to do something great. There's something better for you out there, and even though I want, more than you could know, to be wrong, I'm not. I love you, so much, but I guess that sometimes means I have to let you go." She was not crying, that much he was grateful for. Still, he did not fully understand her meaning. It seemed like a human jest, but it could not possibly be.

"The intricacies of human metaphors escape me. I do not understand how I am a set of coordinates. In theory, a person could be considered a fixed set of coordinates in space, but it does not seem like that is your meaning."

"Am I right in thinking that you have an eidetic memory?"

"Yes."

"Well, remember what I said. Later on, you'll understand. I would go into more detail, but I don't think you'll believe me if I tell you now. I think it's something you have to figure out on your own. Just remember what I said, alright? And that we can always still be friends. Now, are you ready to talk to the other Spock?"

"I am prepared to converse with my younger self. The possibility of a mind meld was also suggested by the captain, but I would prefer to attempt to converse with him first."

"You told Kirk about mind-melding." He thought that it should have been a question, especially considering that he had not done so, but her tone was completely flat.

"Not exactly. It is what a human would call a 'long story'. He knows of its ability to convey knowledge, and he suggested that such a course of action might yield positive results."

"Will you tell me about it later?" Her tone was very careful, as if she did not believe it was something he would share with her.

"Yes, but now is not the time. We need to see if there's anything we can learn from the children."

She paused, exiting the turbolift with him. "What do you think they are?"

"The children?"

"Yes. Do you think they're from alternate realities or what?"

"I have no hypothesis as to their origin at the moment."

"I think they're _you_. Well, all of you. I think they're sort of just you as children. Your inner children, you could say."

"You believe Little Spock is my Inner Child somehow manifested in a physical form? I think you should converse with the captain on the matter; he seems to be the most in touch with his inner child."

"Did you notice that you just did that?"

"To what are you referring?"

"It's nothing, I guess. You made a joke, though. I don't think I've ever heard you joke before."

"Vulcans do not joke."

She sighed softly. "Yeah. I know. They don't lie, either, but you still told me you loved me." He did not respond at first. She was entirely correct.

"Captain Kirk told me that it is socially acceptable for a male to lie to a female about such matters to continue a relationship."

"You went to Kirk for relationship advice? Do you realize how maybe that might be flawed logic? Everyone knows his reputation."

"I thought that the sheer volume of relationships he has had may have given him experience. Also, the fact that he is known for going out of his way to avoid a serious relationship would mean that he is familiar enough with the aspects of a serious relationship to know what to avoid. There is also the factor that our working relationship would be improved by furthering our personal relationship; I have observed that most human males are very receptive to conversing with other males about human females, the Captain being among this category. It was very logical."

"When we're done with the children, we need to talk. I might not be able to be your girlfriend, but that doesn't mean I can't be your friend. As your friend, we need to have a discussion."

"That sounds unusual, but I understand you well enough to know that you will have a logical explanation later. Let us deal with the matter at hand." He pressed the buzzer at the door to Chekov's quarters, and it slid open a moment later. The scene before them was unexpectedly chaotic. At first, it seemed as if Chekov, Leonard, Jimmy and Little Spock had simply gone insane. They were jumping around the room attacking each other with pillows, laughing and yelling. When Chekov noticed the door had been opened, he adopted an attention position immediately. The children continued to chase each other.

"Well, you've really managed to control them," Nyota teased the guilty teen.

"My apologies. Jimmy vas attempting to lead zem into ze air wents to 'explore'. I had to use a pillow fight to distract zem."

"It's okay, Chekov. Why don't you go back to the bridge? Spock and I can handle them, if you don't mind us using your quarters."

"Zat vould be alright. I vill go now." He nodded to them and walked out to go resume his duties.

"So. Why don't you start with Leonard or Jimmy? I'll talk to Spock, okay?"

"That will be satisfactory. Leonard, as you are the oldest, your mental faculties will be the most intact. I wish to speak with you. Is this permissible?" Leonard stared at the Vulcan for a few moments, then nodded.

"What about me? I'm big for my age!" Jimmy pouted. Spock looked over at Uhura, who had pulled his younger self to the other side of the room and was crouched opposite him. Jimmy seemed to have a need for companionship and entertainment, much like his older counterpart, so Spock decided to include him.

"I will question you at the same time, it seems. You two may sit on the bed." The boys did as they were told and Spock stood before them.

"You look funny. You're all green. It's weird."

"He's a _Vulcan_," Jimmy said matter-of-factly. "That's what they look like, like Spock."

"Correct. But I need to ask you this: what is the last thing you remember before you found yourself on the ship?" They looked like they were thinking hard for a moment.

"I don't 'member anything."

"Me neither. I don't remember nothing, really. But I do remember stuff that's happened, just not anything really recent or anything. It's all kinda fuzzy," Leonard said slowly.

"There is a technique, called the mind-meld, that I can use to know your thoughts, to find out. It is what you would call 'mind-reading'. May I do so on you?" Jimmy's eyes lit up, but Leonard frowned.

"I don't want nobody else in my brain. I don't wanna."

"I want to! I want to! That's so cool. It's like you're psychic or something! Read my mind!" Spock was mildly concerned. He did not actually want to use a mind-meld, but it would certainly provide answers. It still felt too personal. He felt like he would be an intruder by melding with Jim, even if he was only about six. But hadn't Jim given him permission? He placed his fingers on the boy's face lightly, feeling himself slip into his consciousness.

It was a mess, that much was certain. Thoughts flew around his mind, cropping up unexpectedly. There was no organization at all, simply chaos. Strangely enough, it was almost what he'd expect from Jim. The odd thing was that all of the thoughts were either entirely recent or long-term memories. He had floating, drifting memories of weeks before, but none of the fresh, vivid images of a couple of days before that should have been there. He sorted through things, attempting to organize the disjointed fragments of thought, emotion, and memory that he felt. All of the long-term memories were hazy and out-of-focus, as if they were older than should be, being remembered from longer than the time they should have happened.

The strange thing was, the boy was so free with emotion. Every single thought was heavily colored by an emotion, or several. Having only been inside his own mind, Spock found it to be very strange. He glimpsed snippets from the past day or so, _acceptance_, _belonging_, _friendship_, _safe_, _love_, _relief_. They were much more pleasant than the things he found in the older memories, which were all tainted with _lost_, _afraid_, _sad_, _apologetic_, _not good enough_. It was wrong for him to know such things, but it couldn't be helped. He had to find answers, but there were none for him there, only questions. He pulled his consciousness away from Jimmy's and gazed at the two boys.

"Nyota, they do not remember disappearing or being taken or what happened just before they came here. I do not know what it means." She looked over to him and frowned.

"Spock's saying the same thing basically. Are you going to do a meld on him?"

"Doubtful. While his mind would be more organized than Jimmy's, I believe it would be very similar in some respects." The holoscreen nearby turned on, revealing the Captain.

"Spock? You got anything? Scotty's found something."

"The meld has revealed something. His long-term memories are present, although faded, despite the emotions surrounding them being strong. The more recent emotions and memories beginning when he beamed aboard are vivid, as to be expected, but there is nothing between the two sets of memories. Despite how strange it sounds, Nyota's hypothesis of an 'Inner Child' might be nearly correct."

"Wait, wait, you lost me at emotions," he teased. "I thought Vulcans didn't _do_ emotion."

"That is, in effect, correct. However, as it was not a Vulcan but a human that I melded with, the presence of emotions makes sense."

"You didn't meld with Spock?"

"No, Captain, I melded with Jimmy as Leonard was opposed to the idea and I would not force a meld on a child. Lieutenant Uhura was conversing with Spock at the time."

"Right. Okay. I need you on the bridge. Uhura, do you think you could watch them? I can send down Sulu if you have other priorities." She walked towards the holoscreen.

"No, Captain, I'll watch them. I think I'll take them to my quarters, though, if that's alright."

"That's fine. I'll send you a replacement in two hours, or sooner if we desperately need you. In the meantime, I need my First Officer."

"I will be there momentarily, Captain." Spock turned on his heel and left with a nod to Uhura. He reached the bridge in approximately two minutes and thirteen seconds, coming to stand adjacent to Jim. "You needed me, Captain?" He let his tone smile for him, finding the idea that he was _needed_ to be a very agreeable one.

"Yep. Scotty tried to see if he could reverse-beam the children, and he found that their previous coordinates don't exist. They came from nowhere. He found a wire out-of-place, though, so he thinks that might be what caused it. I'm just not sure how we send them back."

"We could attempt to beam from and onto the transport pad with the children. If they are a transporter malfunction, perhaps that would solve it."

"See, this is why I need you. You're smart. I say we try it."

He straightened slightly at the praise. "Now, Captain?"

"Why not? We can go see if Bones is busy. Might as well sort out the problem as soon as possible." He clapped Spock on the shoulder, causing him to flinch almost unnoticeably.

"Your logic is sound. We should go."

"Sulu? You've got the conn." The made their way to the sickbay in relative silence. Spock just wanted his younger self off the ship as soon as possible. The child was embarrassing him, to be frank. He was much too open with his emotional displays, although it seemed no one else had noticed it as he had.

"Not now, Jim. Please tell me you don't have the kids with you." McCoy was not at all happy to see them.

"Nope. We just need you for a little bit. Spock has this idea about how to get them back, and we want to try it. We'll go get the kids on the way to the transport room."

"It better not take long. I do have actual work to do. Make it fast."

"Of course. Let's go get the boys. They are pretty cute, by the way. I had forgotten I was such an adorable child."

"Yeah. Just like you forgot that your ego is bigger than your ship," McCoy grunted. "They are sort of cute, though."

"Right? Little you, with your crankiness, little me being a bamf, Little Spock being…I really don't know actually. I was going to say logical, but it looks like the whole logic thing hadn't really sunk in at that age." Spock stiffened, looking straight ahead with the most level gaze possible to conceal his shame.

"I have no explanation for my younger self's vulgar actions. I apologize on his behalf for any offense he has caused you. I am unsure of his motivations."

"It's no big deal. Kids are kids."

"That is correct. May I inquire as to what a 'bamf' is?"

Jim laughed softly and McCoy rolled his eyes. "Bad. Ass. Mother. Fucker. It means I'm awesome."

"That is a most confusing term. You say it means 'awesome', yet the connotation, if my knowledge of human expletives is correct, is that you engage in sexual relations with your own mother. As I'm sure Doctor McCoy knows, this could be evidence of an Oedipus complex. When was the last time you had a psychological evaluation?"

McCoy snorted. "Too long ago, that's for sure."

"Hey! I'm not crazy. It's an official term for someone as awesome and badass as myself. And my mom and I have never…ew. That's nasty."

"It seems the language of humans continues to be imprecise and incorrect. I am unsurprised."

"Whatever. My little-me is still cute, though. I won't lie, yours is too. I mean, those little ears! And that little sweater-dress thing! I wish I could have been there for childhood. I would have taken so many pictures…"

"That is highly illogical. If you had been part of my childhood on Vulcan…it simply would not work. You could not thrive in such an environment, considering your natural tendency towards a lack of logic. There would also be no possible reason for you to reside on Vulcan during your childhood. In addition, there would be no way to put such a series of events into action that would result with you and I knowing each other on my home planet. It is a pointless wish."

"Yeah, but still. Imagine me as a child wearing one of those dresses, my hair in one of those Vulcan bowl cuts, talking like a computer. It would be a little awesome."

"I will repeat myself in case I was not clear: you could not thrive on Vulcan. Not only is your very being wholly contradictory to all the philosophies we are taught from a young age, but, considering your reputation for promiscuity, it is likely you would expire from sexual frustration as there would be no way for you to engage in relations while on Vulcan." McCoy started laughing and Jim looked indignant.

"I never though I'd say this, but that was a pretty good one. And probably true."

"A _pretty good one_? It's not like I'm some sort of weird creature that has to have sex _all the time_. I mean, right now, I haven't gotten laid in…nearly two months. See? I can survive long periods of time without sex!"

"Really, Jim? Two months? I would be proud of you, if not for the fact that it's completely pathetic that you're proud of yourself. Two months? Try two _years_. Then we'll talk."

"I am finding you a girl. Next away mission, we're beaming down to the surface and I'm finding you a creature with something at least vaguely resembling girly bits."

"I fail to see the emphasis human males put on sexual intercourse. Your implication is that two years is a long time, but it is only relative to your culture. It is very rare for a Vulcan to engage in such things before they intend to procreate with their chosen bondmate, which may not be until he or she is nearly thirty years of age, or even older." To him, it was simply a commonly known fact. It seemed to have a different effect on Jim.

"Wait…are you a…? Jeez! I lost my virginity at thirteen!" Spock was confused. He knew that humans had generally engaged in intercourse by his age, but he didn't know the average age for such a thing. He thought that by human standards, he would be considered a little bit of a prude, but not that it would be quite so alarming to a human. Thirteen seemed a little younger than he'd imagined was normal for most humans, though, but it was possible that he was wrong.

"Yeah, well, Jim, you _are_ a bit of a whore."

"What? No…how old were you?"

"Seventeen. And that was still too young. Really, though, who'd sleep with a thirteen-year-old?" It was a good question, considering Earth's blatant disgust for pedophilia.

"You'd be surprised…" The look on Jim's face was mischievous, reminiscent, but the area around his eyes had tightened almost unnoticeably. Spock figured he should not have been surprised that he was not entirely happy about it.

"We have arrived." Spock stopped in front of Nyota's door. He pressed the door bell, and it opened a second later. She was sitting on her bed, leaning against the headboard with a finger pressed to her lips to tell them to be quiet. Leonard was curled up in an armchair, and Jimmy and Little Spock both had their head on her lap. All were sound asleep. Jim took one look at them all and grinned.

"_Look_! We're cuddling!" he mouthed, gesturing to the two boys on the bed. "That's so cute!" He took a quick look around the room, and, spotting something on the desk, slid over to it and picked it up. Spock realized too late that it was a camera. Jim tiptoed over very quickly and took a picture, ignoring Nyota's obvious eye roll. Spock walked over, fighting the urge to steal the camera and delete the picture, and gently placed his hand on his younger self's shoulder. The boy's eyes opened quickly and he moved slightly, causing Jimmy to awaken.

"We need to take them to the transport room. We have a plan to take them back to wherever they came from. You may have been correct about their origin, in case you were wondering," he informed her.

"Yeah. And I'm confiscating this camera for a little while. Just for as long as it'll take me to print and frame a picture. And place multiple back-up copies on the ship's computer. Just in case."

"I assure you that I will find every copy."

"That's what you think. But then again, who was it who hacked your test? Oh, yeah, that would be _me_. You won't find a single copy. Except the one in clear view of everyone when I put on my chair in the bridge. I'll have Scotty set up a lockable picture frame. Everyone will know that Little Spock cuddled with Jimmy."

"I do not understand why you would do such a thing."

"It's cute. Seriously, it's freaking adorable. I might send the photo to a cute child contest. And I'd so win. Besides, the crewmates who cuddle together, stick together."

"I will inform you that I have no intention of cuddling with you."

"Yeah, well, one day, we might be on an away mission in a cave or something, and it might get really cold. We'd be forced to cuddle for warmth. Everyone does it. Hell, me and Bones have cuddled even!"

"Your private fraternizations with Doctor McCoy are not my concern."

"Excuse me? What's this I hear about 'fraternizations' with _him_? There are no fraternizations going on between us. I promise."

"Relax, Bonesy. I was just telling him about that one time we cuddled."

"You were drunk and thought I was a teddy bear. I dragged you off of me immediately. It doesn't count."

"Hey! I think-"

"_Boys_. Enough. You want to take them to the transport room, do so. Don't stand here and bicker about who cuddled with who. While I am generally fine with homoerotic tension, you have jobs to do, as do I. So do them and let me do mine." Her eyes clearly said _get on with it, and don't question that it was homoerotic, because it was_.

They obeyed, each one guiding his own younger self to the transport room. Spock kept his hands firmly on Little Spock's shoulders; the boy kept drifting over to Jimmy in a highly inefficient manner. Nyota followed, curious asto whether or not it would work and if she would be done with babysitting duty. Scotty looked up from the panel in the transport room.

"Scotty, can you just beam us right here? Spock has an idea and we want to try it."

"Aye, Captain." Each man and his younger counterpart stood on a transport pad. Little Spock looked up at the older Vulcan.

"We are leaving for good, are we not?"

"Yes."

"Does this mean I will never see him again?"

"Yes." The boy turned his head down sharply. Half a second later, he yanked himself from the older Vulcan's grasp and was hugging Jimmy like the world depended on it. Jim offered Spock a poorly-raised eyebrow in question, and he gave a slight shake of the head indicating that he had no idea of what was going on.

"I do not want you to go. It is most illogical." Spock heard the unfamiliar sound of tears in his own voice.

"I know. Me neither. I think we'll see each other again, though. We have to."

"Yes. We must." Little Spock pulled away and took Jimmy's hand, pressing his first to fingers to the other boy's. Spock drew in a sharp breath. There was something very, very wrong going on. Spock pulled the boy back more harshly than strictly necessary and held him in place, doing his best to ignore the out-of-place tears on the small, pale face.

"Energize, Mr. Scott." His body began to tingle in the familiar sensation of being beamed somewhere, then the transport room reappeared. There was no longer a child before him.

"Hey! I think it worked! Sweet. We are childless again." Jim was grinning, but Spock could not shake the feeling of…wrongness.

"I have work to do." He turned and left the room, barely noticing that Nyota followed him.

"Spock! Relax. There's no need to freak out."

"I am quite calm." He kept walking quickly to the turbolift.

"Look, I know what you saw."

"It was a highly illogical overreaction."

"Yeah? Well, what would you do if you were never going to see him again?" He stopped, fully considering the idea.

"I do not know."

* * *

**Oi...so, I'm sorry this chapter took so. fucking. long. I'm a band geek, you see, and we've had band camp for the past three and a half weeks. That, and stupid summer reading. But, yes, I have battle them epically, and present you with this. A chapter. **

**Anyways, I want to thank everyone for the reviews, favorites, and alerts. It's really great to know that people are actually reading it! So, thanks!  
**


	8. Chapter 8: The View from the Edge

Spock was distracted, that much was certain. He had completed all his work in a satisfactory amount of time, writing, filing, and sending reports and entering warnings for their class of transporter about particular wires that caused Inner Children to spring up. But his mind was not focused. His day had been strangely eventful. He had dealt with a younger version of himself, broke up with Uhura, and been witness to some strangeness, but still one thing kept floating around his mind: _What would you do if you were never going to see him again?_

He would like to imagine that he would simply approach it logically, say that the phase of his life including Jim Kirk had passed, but it wasn't true. He felt a strange sort of attachment to him. He was afraid of losing him, that much was true. He had been for nearly as long as he'd known him. He would have given his life for the man only forty-eight hours from the time he'd met him. He'd known that he was someone who could be depended on from the words "I'll cover you", and he'd known that he needed him from the very moment he gave that trademark smirk and said, "we're going to make it, don't worry". He had simply _known_, the way he knew formulas and alien grammar. It was something certain and unwavering.

Jim never changed; he was the constant in his equation. It was certain that Jim would be beside him. It was certain that Jim would defy logic. It was certain that he would be able to evoke an emotional response. But perhaps the most illogical thing about the man was that he actually considered him to be a friend. Spock did not have friends. He had colleagues. He was purposely reserved and unfriendly, and others shied away from him for it. But it seemed that this very trait drew Jim closer. _Illogical_.

* * *

"Spock?" It was Nyota. She was done with her shift, as was he, and standing by his chair. "Do you think we could talk tonight? About…things?"

"I have promised, as always, that I will play a game of chess with the Captain tonight, and it seems that such a talk would take longer than the game. Perhaps when we are finished? I would be most receptive to a conversation at that point."

"Alright. I'll be in my quarters. I'll wait for you." She gave him a small smile and left.

* * *

"So, are you _really_ a virgin?" Spock glanced up from the board to look at his opponent, nearly amused.

"I fail to see why this is quite so surprising or interesting to you."

"No, it's just…_really_? Like, you've never had sex? Ever?"

"I believe that _is_ the definition of a virgin, yes."

Jim shook his head as if he could not comprehend such a thing. "Jeez. I need to get you laid. I'll be talking to Uhura, you can count on that."

"I do not see how conversing with her would change my status, as we have terminated our relationship." If Jim had had something in his mouth, it would have been sprayed across Spock's face.

"_What_?"

"We are no longer involved in a romantic relationship."

"Yes, I know what it means, it's just..._why_?"

"I followed your advice and told her I loved her and wanted to resume physical contact. She said something that did not make sense and that we should still be friends. I am going to her quarters to speak with her tonight."

"What'd she say?"

"It was rather long-winded and confusing. The best summary I can offer is that I am, apparently, a set of coordinates. Coordinates which belong with a set of coordinates other than hers. I believe my best approximation of her meaning was the human phrase 'it's not you, it's me'."

"Maybe. She said you belonged with someone else?"

"Yes, I believe that would be the correct assumption. Her intonation was…curious. It is possible she was making reference to the human concept of 'soulmates', now that I think of it. She insisted that she was not intended for me and that to prolong a relationship with me would pull me away from the person I was intended for. It was all rather unclear. She informed me that she would not elaborate because she seemed to want me to find out for myself."

"Odd. Oh, speaking of odd…what was that thing earlier, on the transport pad?"

"I have no idea. It is possible that as I had no friends in my childhood, my younger self took advantage of the chance and ended up becoming attached to your younger self quite quickly."

"You had no friends?"

"I was half human, inferior in the eyes of my peers. I did not have a friend until Starfleet."

"I'm sorry. Kinda sucks. But I wasn't talking about the hug. I mean, kids hug all the time. I meant the thing he did with his fingers. What was that?" Spock froze. As with the mind meld, he had two options: reveal the intimacy of the gesture, or act as if it was nothing to preserve what they had. He chose the latter.

"It was nothing. Just a gesture of friendship commonly used by Vulcans. Nothing to be concerned about."

"Oh, cool. Wait how does it work?" Jim held up his hand and looked at it, then put down all his fingers except his first two. Spock hesitated, then brushed off his reluctance. A gesture only had as much meaning as the people who use it give it. If he did not see it as a kiss, then it was not one.

"Vulcans are touch-telepaths. We use our hands to sense emotions and thoughts from others. The gesture, like this," he extended his two fingers and pressed them to Jim's, "is used to communicate feelings of trust and friendship." Spock blocked off his own emotions and did his best not to absorb anything from his Captain, then let loose a tiny stream of trust through the connection. Jim was staring at their fingers in curiosity with a little smile on his face. Spock clenched his jaw almost imperceptibly in an attempt to keep from picking up on any emotions. It would be rude to observe his raw thoughts or emotions when he was not fully aware.

"It's cool. My fingers are tingling." Spock clenched the hand that was hiding beneath the table.

"Could we continue the game. I do not want to keep Nyota waiting longer than strictly necessary." Jim nodded and withdrew his hand to move his piece.

"No problem." They played a few turns before he spoke again. "So, how much can you sense as a touch-telepath?"

"It depends on the intensity of the thought or emotion and whether or not I am actively trying to sense it. Generally, I do not allow myself to intrude on the thoughts and emotions of others, so I block it out and avoid unnecessary contact. It is not too difficult with practice as long as I am not in large groups of people."

"So if I were to touch you right now, would you sense whatever emotion I'm feeling?"

"No. As I said, I block it out most of the time. It is only when I am alone that I cease to uphold a telepathic block."

"Why, though? Why not just let go?"

"It would be rude. Others are not aware of my ability and do not have sufficient training to hide emotions, so it would be a very large intrusion. Similar in ways to the earth taboo of reading another's diary, only it would be constantly updating and more complex."

"You don't have to around me, you know. You can relax around me, if you'd like. It's not rude or anything if I allow to, is it? You have my permission and all that."

"I will consider the option, but will refrain from doing so at the time being."

"Okay. Sure. Take it at your own pace. Just out of curiosity, though, is it possible that a person could feel something so strongly that even if you were blocking, you'd still feel it?"

"Yes. Also, during the rare moments when I let my emotions get the better of me, I am able to sense emotions quite well. Such as on the bridge after you had returned from Delta Vega."

"When you tried to strangle me?" Spock nearly flinched. He still felt guilty about that incident.

"Yes. I do apologize for that. I overreacted. But, at the time, I could feel your emotions."

"Oh really? And what were they?"

"Anger, triumph, fear, and something else."

"Something else?"

"Yes. As humans are more emotions, they have a slightly wider range. This was one I was, and am, unfamiliar with."

"Any guesses?"

"No. To be honest, I had not given it much thought. It was unlike anything I had ever felt, but I was preoccupied with my own emotions at the time. At the present I hardly remember what it was like, in any case." Jim's eyes grew bright in a way that he knew was mischievousness. A playful smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"If I were to touch you again and send you that emotion, would you be able to recognize it?"

"It is probable, however-" Jim stopped him by settling his fingers on his hand. Spock impulsively blocked it, his expression remaining unchanged.

"You just blocked me, didn't you?" Spock did not answer. Jim's eyes searched his face, lingering on his eyes and lips. Spock felt the faint push of feeling from their contact, jaw clenching as it grew. Jim bit his lip, looking as if he were both forcing himself outward and restraining himself.

"Jim, stop. There is no reason for me to analyze your emotion."

"I want to know. I just want to check something." His voice was low and rough. "You have no idea how hard it is to make yourself feel an emotion strongly enough for you to feel it without succumbing to it." Spock closed his eyes. He might as well simply let the emotion through to get it over with. He eased his mental blocks down, allowing the feeling to swim through him. It was the same emotion alright. It was an altogether strange feeling. The emotion hovered at the edge of his consciousness, teasing the back of his mind with shadowy hints of the feeling that maybe the emotion wasn't so foreign at all. It was electric, the force of it making his toes curl. With a very soft sigh, he pulled his hand away.

"Yes. That is the emotion. I will ask you not to repeat that again. It is…most unusual. There is a human term, _déjà vu_, which I feel most accurately describes…when your emotion was inside of me."

"You've felt it before?"

"Not so purely as…that. But there are shadows in my mind of that feeling." Jim grinned wide and Spock almost shuddered. To feel an emotion as intensely as he just had left aftershocks. They were confusing. Spock moved his bishop, and they continued their game in silence.

* * *

Nyota had waited up for him like she said she would. She had a cup of tea in her hand when she answered the door and was wearing her traditional sleep wear of stolen Starfleet Regulation Sleeping Boxers (they wore boxer briefs beneath their uniforms with separate undergarments for sleep) and a tank top. She smiled when she let him in, and gestured to the second chair in her quarters, folding her legs beneath her in her own chair. He sat stiffly, but was put at ease by her friendly demeanor.

"So, you just finished a game with Kirk? How was that?"

"Fine. I told him about touch-telepathy." Spock paused. Nyota was his friend. He was supposed to be able to share things with her that he couldn't sort out by himself. She had always been easy to talk to anyway. "He…asked about the moment on the transport pad when my younger self shared a Vulcan kiss with his younger self. He was not familiar with the gesture."

"You told him about it? That must have been awkward."

"I…did not. I told him it was a gesture between friends. As with the mind meld, I reasoned that he would not find anything suspicious about either thing if I simply told him that is was the sort of thing friends participated in. I did not want him to know the intimacy of either of the two actions."

"I know your heart was in the right place, but that might not have been such a good idea. What if he tries to make you do either of those things?"

"I came to the same conclusion after he asked me to show him the kiss. That was when I explained touch-telepathy. He then tried to send me an emotion, one that I had felt before from him, when I attacked him on the bridge after Delta Vega. It was…confusing."

"What was the emotion?"

"I am not sure. It was almost as if I recognized from something I had felt before from myself, but I could not place it. It was somewhat unsettling." She gazed at him as there were a difficult equation written on his face and she was trying to solve it. He felt uncomfortable in the silence. "As I recall, you asked me about how Jim knew of the mind meld." He then proceeded to tell her about what he had learned from his elder self and Jim about the events on Delta Vega and what he knew of the meld.

"He really melded with him?"

"Yes. The most unsettling thing about it is that I have no idea of the possible repercussions. There may have been memory or emotional transference. I have spoken with my elder self, and he is much more emotional than I am. He and his own Jim were much closer than myself and my Jim. He may have interfered in some way, or allowed memories from his life enter Jim's mind. He is quite unlike me, as well. I would never perform a mind meld on a human unless entirely necessary. It would be amoral."

"What will you do if he asks you to perform a meld on him?"

"I can not imagine a set of circumstances that would lead him to do so."

"You're pretty good friends with him, aren't you?"

"I do not know. I know how I feel towards him, but I cannot know how he feels towards me without the use of telepathy. I trust him with my life. And I would give my life for him." She blinked at him and gulped down a large swallow of tea.

"You're sure? I mean, you haven't exactly known him for a long time."

"I am positive. It is strange. I just…_know_ that if the situation should arise, I would die for him. It is most unusual, but I am certain of this fact."

"You love him." She said this fact to her mug of tea, sliding her finger around the rim. He thought over her statement. He had only truly felt love for his mother, and the sense of devotion he felt for Jim was similar to how he felt for her.

"As a friend, a brother, yes." She smiled humorlessly as if enjoying a private joke she'd heard too many times to still consider funny.

"Two out of three. You're almost there," she muttered. He quirked an eyebrow but said nothing. He would say nothing because to address what she had just said would be to register what it meant, and that was not going to happen. "Why Kirk? Of all people, why have you chosen Kirk as your best friend?"

"He chose me, I think. After Delta Vega, with the exception of the incident upon his immediate return, his manner insisted that we be friends. I originally had no intent of friendship, I merely wanted to serve with him. Despite my initial distaste for his personality, I thought he was more than competent, a potentially great captain, and so I chose to attempt to become his crewmate, if possible."

"He is brilliant, I'll give him that. And, despite all his personality shortcomings, he is _quite_ attractive."

"Is he?" She gazed at him for a long moment. He shrugged it off. He had never considered the captain to be in any way aesthetically pleasing. He had not used his time to observe either his facial features, physique or hands. He was aware that the man viewed himself as attractive, but he supposed it would be relevant to their missions and working relationship to decide whether or not he was. After all, if his lack of foresight had allowed Jim to be captured by aliens who valued him for his physical appeal, then Spock would have to be entirely guilty for not even anticipating the situation. "I will examine him so as to decide for myself."

"You do that. Look, I'm pretty tired. Would you mind leaving so I can go to bed?" Spock supposed that if she had said this to someone else, it might have been seen as rude, but she knew that he appreciated bluntness.

"Yes. Thank you for having me. I would hope that we can continue our friendship, as I place great value upon it." He left the room with a nod, and went down his corridor, stopping at the door before his.

* * *

Now was a good a time as any to make his observations, and he knew Jim's schedule well enough to know that he wasn't asleep yet. He pressed the button to announce that there was someone at the door. It opened a moment later, revealing a sleepy-looking Captain.

"Hey, Spock. I was just going to bed. You need something?"

"Just a moment, Jim." Spock turned his gaze from the other man's eyes to take in his full form. He was wearing only the Starfleet Regulation Uniform Boxer Briefs, as opposed to the longer, baggier boxers issued for sleep. A quick assessment told him that he had excellent musculature around his chest, abdomen, and arms. His shoulders were exceptionally well-formed. His eyes followed the gentle angles of his chest, skimming over his lightly pink (oddly enough) nipples, across the taut angles of his hipbones, to the golden trail of hair leading down from his navel to the waistband of his boxer briefs. A quick glance lower showed muscular thighs and something unmentionable but of very proportionate size below the fabric around his midsection. His eyes darted back to his face. His lips were pink and full, well-matched for the size and shape of his face. Perhaps the most distinguishing factor of his face was his almost painfully blue eyes. The blond tufts shooting up in all directions from his scalp looked soft and inviting, and Spock nearly quirked his eyebrow at the hand that ran through it. His fingers were long and slender, but his hands still held a look of strength.

"Spock?"

"I have deduced that you are aesthetically pleasing." Two eyebrows rose, nearly to his blond hairline.

"Oh really?"

"Yes. I was assessing such a quality so as to be aware of it in case of a possible situation further down the line."

"So you like what you see?" Jim stretched, extending his well-muscled torso, and leaned against the door frame with a smirk.

"My feelings towards your appearance have nothing to do with anything."

"Then why are you checking me out?"

"Lieutenant Uhura suggested that you were physically attractive, and I thought it prudent to deduce whether or not she was right." A hand extended to his face and lightly slapped his cheek twice.

"Oh, you're cute when you're flustered."

"I assure you that I am not in any way flustered, as that would imply that I have an emotional response to your physical appeal."

"Ah, but you admit that I have physical appeal!"

"I will admit that a majority of races would find your musculature and facial structure aesthetically pleasing, and that Vulcan standards would hands to be equally appealing. That does not in any way mean that I personally find you to be as such, merely that I am able to recognize such features."

"Relax, I was just joking with you. And I appreciate that you stopped by to tell me that I'm hot. I need to go to bed, though, so unless you intend on staying, I think I'm going to have to say goodnight."

"Another chess game would not be beneficial to your sleep habits. I will leave. Goodnight, Jim."

"'Night, Spock." He watched the vaguely confused expression disappear when the door slid shut and walked down the hall to his own room. He peeled off his uniform and placed it in the proper receptacle for dirty laundry and pulled on his sleepwear. He was not quite ready to sleep, but did not feel like meditating would serve any purpose. He ignored it and forced himself into a deep slumber, ignoring all thoughts of the Captain or his hands, the events concerning particular small children, and questions he did not want to answer.

* * *

**Update...yay! It's a little shorter than I'd like, but whatever. So, as always, I'd appreciate any feedback. And I'd like to thank anyone who reviewed, favorited, alerted, or clicked on this story! I'm still surprised it's gotten as much traffic as it has, so thanks!**


	9. Chapter 9: Love will be the death of me

Beta shift had set the course, as per the instructions Kirk had received regarding the next mission. Spock finished typing up his and the Captain's reports and sent them to Starfleet. Alpha crew was silent that morning, busy preparing for the mission ahead. It was their first diplomatic mission, and they were all well aware that the eyes of the admiralty were fixed on them. Spock noticed Uhura's lips moving in what he recognized as her memorization technique for new languages. While actually learning to speak the culture's language would not be necessary as Common was known across the galaxy (even if it was not necessarily the planet's original language), she would not pass up the chance to practice.

The Captain was precisely on time for his shift, as usual. Spock was acutely aware of his presence, thanks to the fact that the man kept looking at him and grinning. He did not react obviously, but it was somewhat annoying and quite distracting to constantly feel eyes on his back. All the same, he wrote and sent a brief memo to the crew about the planet's conditions and the people's culture.

It was a race of humanoid creatures, yellow-skinned and very intelligent. They had developed interstellar travel a century before, but their society was still reminiscent of Earth's sixteenth century. It had a similar set of distinct social classes, a patriarchal hierarchy that was strangely ruled by a queen at the present, and was experiencing a period of heightened interest in the arts. The clothing, as well, was very similar to that of the Terran Renaissance. In fact, they would be required to wear such clothing to show Starfleet's respect for the planet's customs. He included this, as well as warnings about the planet's strict forms of punishment for wrongdoings (included specifically for Jim) in his official memo. A few minutes after he sent it, Jim addressed him.

"Spock! We get to play dress-up?"

"If you are referring to the diplomatic need to wear the customary clothing of another race and not to the Terran tradition for young girls to try on some sort of outlandish and commonly princess-themed costume, then my answer is yes."

"Awesome. By the way, I did just hear you call me a little girl, so don't think you got away with that."

"I do not know what you are referring to."

"Of course not." A knowing grin was flashed in his direction. "So, what do we get to wear? Do we get to have swords? Because I really want to carry a sword."

"We will be equipped with ceremonial daggers, but not what you would refer to as a sword. Most are only between six and ten inches."

"…That's what she said." Spock heard the room snickering, and, judging by the exaggerated smirk on Jim's face, deduced that he had missed some sort of joke, most likely of a sexual nature. Of course, it was entirely illogical.

"To whom are you referring? I was not aware that there was a female involved in our conversation." The grin faded a few notches.

"No, no, it's an expression. It's short for 'that's what she said in bed last night' or something like that. It's just a phrase used when someone says something that could be interpreted as an innuendo."

"There are several fallacies within your statement. First, there was no female in your quarters last night. I would have seen her, so you could not have engaged in sexual intercourse, as I assume that is to what you are referring, with her last night. Second, I am unsure as to whom you find it so prudent to assert your sexual prowess for, as that must be the underlying reason, as it commonly is, behind your statement. Third, I do not understand how my statement concerning the ceremonial daggers of the Faylan people could be seen as a sexual innuendo."

"Oh, Spocky-"

"_Spock_. Please refer to me by my given name, and not by an unimaginative nickname."

"Whatever. Anyway, the idea is that the measurements you gave are roughly similar to those of, well, certain anatomy. With exceptions, of course, me being one of them. You know what they say about a Captain and the size of his chair…" Jim's expression made it seem like he had won some sort of competition. Fortunately, superior knowledge and logic gave him a response that might put him in his place and correct his error.

"I have never heard reference to the size of your chair in correlation to what I believe you meant to be the male reproductive anatomy. I will assume that you have insecurities about the size of your genitalia, which you seek to remedy or disguise by over exaggerating." Jim rolled his eyes.

"You're just jealous because everyone wants me for my body. After all, I am _aesthetically pleasing_. Isn't that right?" The grin was back. Was there nothing to stop him?

"As I said before, most would consider you to be attractive, but that is not indicative that 'everyone' would want to engage in intercourse with you, as that is obviously your meaning. Your statement is also false in the respect that the connotation of your word choice implies that your physical appeal is your only positive attribute. Despite a highly illogical outlook, you are quite intelligent (despite appearing to be the opposite) and have an appropriate range of interests. You are also very talented at several things and have a friendly, well-liked demeanor. It is illogical for one to 'want you for your body' when your physical appeal is well overshadowed by all of your other positive attributes." Spock knew the statement was entirely un-Vulcan (though logical and entirely factual), but it was worth it for the deafening silence and soft glint in his Captain's bright blue eyes. He took both to mean that he had won.

Jim gave him a slightly confused and almost bashful smirk. "Did you actually just…?"

"Oh, for the love of all that is holy!" Nyota interrupted rather exasperatedly, "Either get a room, or be quiet so that _some_ of us can work!" She shook her head with a loud sigh.

"By the way, if you choose the first option, we don't want to hear about it. We see enough of it to actually need a description," McCoy commented dryly. Female giggles softly filled the room. Spock did not understand what either Nyota or McCoy were referring to (for he had only made a logical statement about his Captain) so he ignored them and focused on his work again.

He did his best to learn everything possible about the alien culture. He had a feeling that something might go wrong, and considering Jim's natural tendency towards chaos, it was very probable that he would be at the center of it. It was Spock's duty to protect his Captain at all costs, and therefore it was his duty to be as well informed as possible so in the event of everything going wrong, he would be able to save him in the most efficient way possible, if need be.

Spock was not what would be called pleased. He stood on the transport platform with Jim, Nyota, and McCoy, and all were dressed in the traditional clothing of the Faylans. Spock himself was wearing black hose and an embroidered indigo doublet and jerkin in addition to a rather large hat that he deemed entirely unnecessary. Of course, Jim's was larger with a very conspicuous feather, so he reasoned that it could be worse. Jim himself was wearing similar hose and his doublet and jerkin were gold and slightly more expensive-looking. McCoy was wearing an outfit very similar to Spock's, only with a smaller hat, and Nyota was wearing a very elaborate crimson dress with a small cap atop her head. Jim took his dagger from its sheath and tossed it in the air, catching it easily.

"So, I'm not so sure about these pantyhose things, but I'm loving the hats. We should get to wear hats like this all the time. I'm putting in a requisition order as soon as we get back. They're fucking awesome."

"I'm not wearin' one of these. Not on your life."

"I'll change your mind. Is everything ready, Scotty?"

"Aye, Captain."

"Awesome. Energize."

* * *

They beamed into a large hall. A man in purple who seemed to be some sort of dignitary stood at the head of a large table looking very serene. A man sat to his left and right, their wives beside them. The man at the head of the table stood and outstretched his arms.

"Welcome, friends. Will you eat with us? We have much to discuss." The four sat in the empty chairs, Jim and Spock seated across from Nyota and McCoy, and they all settled into diplomatic procedure. The purpose for the mission was first to cement the alliance between the Faylans and Starfleet, and second to ensure peace among the people of Fay. The second was more difficult than the first. The capital of Fay, Verna, was largely divided between two houses, the Montus and Capura. They had been warring for generations, and the prince (who Spock found out was the man at the head of the table) had been trying to end the feud before it turned into planet-wide war. The Enterprise had been asked to end things before the planet descended into chaos.

Spock was not entirely comfortable with the Faylan culture. Particularly, he was not fond of their eating habits. He tried to ignore their sloppy manners by focusing on the prince as he spoke. He saw that Jim, who was sitting in front of him, was also focused on the Faylan. Spock took a quick moment to follow the rounded shell of his ear to the line of his jaw, marveling at how simultaneously similar and different it was from his own. The soft skin was lightly pink, and if he looked closely, he could see very, very fine white hairs on his ear's gentle outer curve. His fingers found the points of his own ear, feeling the tangible proof of the harmonious juxtaposition that made up everything that was _Kirk and Spock_. It was an acceptable idea, he decided.

* * *

Several hours later, after vast quantities of food had been consumed, the landing party received an invitation from the Capuras to attend a party a little bit later that evening. Jim, of course, accepted the invitation on behalf of everyone else. The prince offered them each a room in his manor to clean up and rest before the party. The servant who took them all to their rooms explained that the party was in honor of a group of soldiers who had returned to the city, the friends and distant nephew of Lord Capura. In addition to the lord having a daughter of marriageable age, he also had several nieces who were due to be wed, and a party was generally accepted as the best way to push a marriage in the Faylan culture.

Spock was not entirely sure what he thought of the Faylan marriage customs. He was accustomed to arranged marriages, that was not his problem. What he did not agree with was the lack of bonding and the age of the people who were to be wed. On Vulcan it was best to bond a couple before they grew up. That way they would definitely not develop feelings for anyone else as they grew older. But waiting until females were of an age to reproduce, that could be detrimental to the entire purpose. By that age, both males and females would have formed natural bonds with others. It would cause conflict within any marriage, he decided. Especially with beings who did not rely solely on logic for reasoning. Such beings would be much less able to control themselves, and would let their emotions rule them. It was an entirely illogical arrangement.

* * *

Jim met him outside his room a while later, informing him that McCoy and Nyota had already left for the party. Jim was wearing a gold silk shirt and matching smirk.

"Come on. Let's go party." He holds out his elbow as if for a woman and Spock ignores it.

"Jim, I am quite sure that their idea of a party is dissimilar to yours."

"Yeah well. Let's see if we can change that." Spock followed, unsure of many things, but Jim was grinning so the odds were that everything would turn out alright. Events had a tendency to follow his whims in the end. It seemed to be a fact of the universe, he was beginning to see.

On the way there, they walked through the streets, admiring the city at night. The smooth stone roads reflected the stars as they were a polished quartz-like stone found naturally on the planet. They heard male voices, and when their road converged with another, were confronted by three young men who looked to be in their late teens, immersed in conversation.

"Honestly, Mennio, I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Why? Because you had a bad dream? Dreams mean nothing, you know that." His tone became teasing. "Dreamers often lie."

"Yeah. In bed, asleep, when they get bad feelings that turn out to be right."

"Relax. Just relax and dance and be happy."

Jim, sensing a pause in their conversation, broke in, "Hey, are you going to the Capura party? We aren't sure where it is. Maybe you could point us in the right direction?"

The first boy to speak replied, "Yeah, we're going. You can come with us if you want. You do know it's a mask, right? They won't let you in without one."

"It's okay, though, you can borrow a couple of ours. We've got extras," the other boy addressed as Mennio said. He handed them a couple of masks.

"By the way," began the third boy, "I'm Ben. These two are Roman and Mennio."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Jim and this is Spock."

"You're Terrans, aren't you?" Mennio asked. "Ive always wanted to meet one."

"He is a Terran. I am a Vulcan," Spock clarified.

"Oh. Sorry." Jim and Mennio began to discuss Earth culture, but Spock paid no attention. His mind was unable to focus. He had a nagging sense of what he believed was called déjà vu. It was a very strange sensation, to say the least.

"Oh, look. We're here." The stood in front of a large doorway guarded by a very large Faylan. He waved them in once they all had their masks on.

* * *

Of course, Spock had been right earlier. The party was not at all the sort that Jim was used to, that much was evident on his face. There was a dance floor, but the people on it were not dancing in the current human style. They glided in large intricate forms to the music of soft, tentative stringed instruments. There was no food or drink, merely a large area with chairs for people to sit and converse in. It is there they head for, Spock glimpsing Nyota and McCoy amidst the throng of people. She speaks to them in their own language while the doctor looks bored, but his focus is given away by the way his eyes keep flitting back to her.

"Spock! Captain." Her voice is smiling. "They really do have a very interesting culture. Did you know…" her voice trails off as Spock loses focus, a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. From across the room, he picks out two voices arguing:

_"I've never loved anyone and never will!"_

_"Women everywhere should dance in the streets! What made you decide to do such a favor for us? I know you aren't the charitable type."_

_"If only you would say the same thing. I pity whoever is forced to marry you."_

_"You say that as if I would allow myself to be married! I would never condemn myself to that-"_

"Spock? Are you listening?" Nyota had stopped, her head tilted at him.

"Yes. I am listening intently," he replied, finishing in his mind, _to someone else's conversation_.

"You seem sort of distant."

"It is nothing. Please continue what you were saying." She continued and he considered the topic of marriage. It would be necessary to find a suitable mate in the future, considering that he would have to undergo pon farr. He would have to question his older counterpart about the circumstances of the incident so as to have more information. He would need a mate, in any case. It would be simplest to have himself choose one for him, although something, perhaps his continued exposure to humans, made him find the idea of someone choosing his mate for him distasteful.

* * *

A hand settled on his arm. He could tell that it was Jim, which meant it was in all probability unconscious, so he did not react. He made himself focus on Nyota's conversation on the topic of Faylan architecture. That was until he felt something pressing at his consciousness. He turned to look at Jim, who was putting on a very good show of listening intently to Nyota, the only thing giving him away was the faint upturn of one of the corners of his mouth.

Spock moved away from the contact, surprised to almost immediately feel light fingers on his wrist. The pressure at his mind intensified. He made a decision and let Jim in for exactly the amount of time it took to sent him the thought _do no attempt this; I will not allow it_. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the faint glimmer of a smirk intensify. The fingers slid down to trace the lines of his palm, and Jim's presence became more forceful. Nyota began debating with a Faylan who disagreed with her statement on the difference between Terran and Faylan architecture.

"_Let me in_," Jim whispered, his breath teasing his ear. When Nyota turned back to them, he was exactly as he had been before. Spock was annoyed. _Do not do this. I do not appreciate your manipulation of my abilities. _But in the window he had created to tell him so, Jim pushed his way in, projecting triumph. The emotion subsided, but his presence remained despite Spock's best efforts to push him away. Just when Spock had relaxed, figuring that Jim's entire motive was to see if he could get in, he felt a soft surge of emotion. Boredom. Then happiness. Then sadness. It became clear that Jim was not sending him his current emotions. _I will ask you to refrain from doing this. It is obvious you are in the midst of some sort of immature game that serves no purpose. I will not be so gracious with my mind in the future. _

_Oh really? Because it seemed like I got in on my own. Besides, this is fun. Making you feel emotions. Let's see how much it takes you to act on them. _Anger. Strong and pure. But it was a mistake on Jim's part. If there was any emotion that he had experience in containing, it was this one. Jim seemed to sense this and switched to sorrow. It was deep and stung, as he had not entirely recovered from the death of his mother. Still, he knew enough of that particular emotion to be able to hide it away, as he had been for the past weeks. Then he switched again, this time to _the other_ emotion. The one he really wasn't sure about. It crashed over him, and it was all he could do not to move from the impact. _One of these days, I'll tell you what this is. Then you'll know. But for now, just enjoy it. I'd like to see you react to this one._

_I could force you to tell me what this is._ He gritted his teeth, trying to assert his control of his muscles. They wanted to move. To reach out. To touch._ You are wasting your time. I will not react. _

_How can you be so sure? You don't even know what you're feeling. How can you know you won't act on it? It's not so bad anyway. I promise._ Spock felt his fingers begin to tremble. It was too much. He took a large step away, following it with another and another until he was all the way across the room and couldn't even see Jim. That would be the last time he allowed another to give him emotions. It felt too…wrong. Forbidden. He shouldn't have let it continue as long as it had, but a small part of him, his pride, told him that it might be satisfying to prove his Captain wrong. It was a part of him he would try to be more aware of in the future so he wouldn't listen to it. He could imagine Nyota right now, looking confused, and Jim with that smug look he seemed so fond of. He felt ashamed, so he put them from his mind.

* * *

The boy from earlier, Roman, was standing in the corner, talking to a girl. He watched them blush and flirt and touch and he wondered how it came so naturally to some species. They were so inclined towards romance. The two young teens kissed and he couldn't help but wonder why. What pleasure could be derived from such an action? He could not understand. The pair separate and an older woman whisks the girl away, speaking briefly with the boy. After she leaves, he sinks to the floor, obviously in despair. Spock begins to walk over, to offer some comfort despite that he has none to give, when he sees Jim approach and sit next to the boy. He strains his ears to overhear.

"What's wrong?" Jim asks, oddly gentle and quiet. He supposes this is his "comforting" tone.

"I'm a fool for love. I'm at its mercy. Could there be anything more wrong?"

"We've all been there."

"No, this is more than just a brief crush. She is the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

"So what's the problem?"

"She is Lord Capura's daughter."

"So?"

"My father is Lord Montus. We couldn't be worse for each other. I love her, but it wasn't meant to be."

"Just because your parents don't like each other doesn't mean that you two shouldn't be together. Love is all you really need. I mean, with every romance, there are obstacles. That's how it works. But you find out how much you love someone by what you're willing to do to overcome those obstacles. If you really love each other, it shouldn't matter."

"I guess not."

"That's the spirit. You'd be surprised what a little love can do."

"You're right. I'll find her. Then we can marry and they won't be able to do a thing about it! Perfect." Roman stands and leaves, missing Jim's alarmed expression. Spock takes a step away, nearly colliding with Mennio.

"Do you love him?" he asks, an eyebrow raised. It takes Spock a second to realize he means the Captain.

"Yes. He is my closest friend." Mennio leans against the wall nearby.

"I figured. I love him too." Spock allows himself to appear confused. "Not your friend. Mine. It's awful, isn't it? They never have any idea, do they? They just go around, self-centered as always, not that you're complaining, and you have to pick up the pieces when they fall. I hate him sometimes, too. But he's always just sort of there. I don't know what I'd do if he wasn't." Spock looks at the floor. He isn't sure of how to reply, even though he knows almost exactly how the boy feels. "Then you have to watch him go after every other girl he sees and pretend you care, but really you don't. It's just another reason to hate him even though you don't anyway."

"Jim does not 'go after girls'. He does not speak of his own romantic interests."

"You're lucky then. Let me tell you, it's awful. Besides, I think yours loves you back anyways. Lucky bastard. Oh, don't look now, but here he comes. I'll take this as my cue to leave." Mennio whispers away, and Spock can clearly see Jim coming towards him. He can't shake the feeling that he was missing something in his conversation with Mennio.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry about what I did back there. I shouldn't have done that, especially not in front of Uhura and Bones. I didn't mean to abuse your emotions, I just wanted to give you a chance to _feel_, you know?"

"I am not angry. I understand your human needs will cause you to perform actions that I may not be comfortable with."

"When you put it that way, you make it seem sort of dirty." Spock raised an eyebrow. "But I am sorry."

"I appreciate your apology, but I do have a question: do you love me?" Jim chokes on nothing.

"Um…what?"

"Do you love me? I love you."

"Um, yeah. Yeah, I do. That's alright, right?"

"It is quite satisfactory."

"Okay. Awesome. I have to go do Captain-y stuff now. Um, good talk." Jim looks back at where Nyota and McCoy are talking and cup's Spock's cheek, running his thumb over his cheekbone. He offered a soft smile and walked away. Spock raises his eyebrow again at the touch. He watches Jim walk through the crowd. In a small part of his brain, he registers that there might still be a threat to the Captain's safety if someone were to only see him from behind. He would have to be attentive and watch for such a thing. He considered that it might be a good idea to drape a large cloth over his head and body on away missions, but he knew Jim would never go for it. He would simply have to be more alert to any threats on his person.

If Jim weren't so attractive, his duties would be much easier.

* * *

**A/N: I am so sorry for taking so long to update...I really have no excuse. But I will be updating more regularly until November for sure. And thanks to anyone who's still reading. You're awesome! Even awesomer if you leave a review, but whatevs.**.. XD


	10. Chapter 10: What You Choose To Be

Nyota found him not long after Jim disappeared. She was ready to leave and wanted to say goodbye to him before she went back to her room. Spock accompanied her, feeling cramped in the crowd of people. They walked back in silence, but she offered for him to come into her room and visit for a short while. He accepted. There was not a very large variety of activities to occupy his time with until Kirk was finished with his business.

"So, tell me, what were you thinking about earlier?" she asked, sitting down and gesturing for him to do the same.

As he took his seat, he replied, "To what time would you be referring?"

"You know, when you were obviously not paying attention to me." She said it matter-of-factly, and he got the impression that she wasn't offended. Of course, women tended to be skilled at hiding such things. He did not want her to be offended.

"At first I was considering the idea of marriage and how it would most likely affect me in the future. After that, I was distracted." It was his intent to be vague. He always hoped that Nyota wouldn't ask him to be more specific.

"You generally don't get distracted."

"Yes, well, this was an extenuating circumstance, one that has inspired me to be less giving with personal information; Jim was attempting to produce an emotional response from me by sending strong emotions through contact." Nyota blankly regarded him for a moment.

"Do I need to have a talk with him?" Spock was internally amused; her tone made it sound like the discussion she would have with him would include violence. Possibly a lot of violence. He most definitely would not need her to "talk" with him. If anyone were to discuss an issue or cause bodily harm to Jim's person, it would be him.

"That is unnecessary. He has apologized. Even if he had not, I would have forgiven him still; I have accepted him for his unique personality quirks. I also know that he meant no harm to me as he has confirmed that we are close friends."

"Does that mean that you'll allow him to mess with your emotions in the future? I'm not sure that's really a good idea." He was touched by how she sounded worried for him; it was most unusual of those he knew.

"In retrospect, it was not an unpleasant experience. It was very quick and he did not succeed, despite attempts with several different emotions. It was somewhat eye opening to experience such things, although in the future I would prefer any further experimentation be held in private, in the incidence that I do react." He imagined a similar attempt occurring, possibly resulting in an angry expression, a grimace, or even a tear. That was an unpleasant idea.

"What would happen if you did react?"

"In the very worst case scenario, I assume that if he simulated anger, I would commit an act of violence upon an object, for example, or any other logical response to another emotion. The only one I am unsure is the one he transmitted to me previously. That one was the most difficult to control. When I left, that was the reason."

"Do you remember what the emotion was?"

"I have a distinct impression of it."

"Well, seeing as it's probably a largely human emotion, maybe I could help you identify it?" He looked at her quizzically for a moment before concluding that it was a logical option. He tried to call the emotion back into being inside of him, but it flickered and faded. The memory of the feeling was firm in his mind, but he could not simulate it from the memory of it alone. A different idea came to mind: if he could focus on the person who had given him the emotion, he might be able to recall it better. He imagined Jim seated in Nyota's place, running his hands through his hair and giving him one of his more mischievous smirks. He felt the emotion, a little different, a little more tame, begin to hum slightly beneath his skin, and opened eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed. Nyota held her arm out to him, and ever so gently, he placed two fingers on her wrist, sending a light flow of emotion through the connection. Her eyebrows went up at the strangeness of the contact, and he pulled away. She gave him a long look.

"That's what he's been sending to you? You've felt it before?"

"That is not the exact emotion he sent me. I was unable to simply recall it, so I attempted to reproduce it on my own. It is not an entirely foreign feeling. I believe I may have experienced it before, otherwise it would not have such an effect on me."

"You've felt that before?" she looked at him, almost angry, for a moment, then smiled. "That one's a hard one. It was sort of a blend of similar emotions, which may be why you've felt it before, or not. If that's your emotion, well..." She took a deep breath before continuing. "Look, Spock, that emotion…that's what we call love. And not familial love, otherwise you would've known what it was without thinking. No, there was a lot of longing in that. And lust. Believe me, I know." Spock raised an eyebrow.

"That is entirely illogical." That was all of the thought he would give to the subject.

"Love never is logical." Spock shook his head, and she continued, "You obviously need to figure this out for yourself. But really, is it so bad? There are far worse things than being in love with Kirk." Her voice was soft and encouraging, but there was a slight edge to it. "Besides, it's not like this is the only thing that points to you being in love with him. Remember Little Spock? It was painfully obvious that he was head over heels for Jimmy, not to mention that he rather obviously called him-"

"I think I shall retire to my quarters. I need to wait for the Captain to finish diplomatic negotiations, then we can return to the Enterprise." Spock stood and left without another word or even a glance at Nyota. Once in his own room, he sat stiffly on his bed, staring at the communicator that sat next to him, waiting for the call that would say that they could leave. He needed to leave. Badly. Although the place he really wanted to leave was his own mind. If he could stop himself from thinking before he started, if he could get ahead of that train of thought, he just might escape it…

* * *

The next morning, Spock awoke in a sitting position, exactly as he had been the night before. His back and neck were a little sore, but they were nothing in comparison to his head. While he slept, his mind had been examining every single detail of all of his previous interactions with Jim and his emotions toward them. He was not proud of his conclusion. Everything pointed to a stronger emotional attachment than he had ever wanted. Worse yet, he had as much as told him of his feelings the night before. It was a situation that needed to be remedied as quickly as possible. If Jim knew…he would not even have time to apologize before being transferred to another vessel, if he was not accused of sexual harassment. After all, he had allowed physical contact.

He stood and went to the Captain's room, idly wondering why they had not left the night the Captain (it was best to remain formal now because any familiarity would point right to his infatuation) answered, he looked pleasantly rumpled. His eyes wandered over Spock's face softly while a faint small tugged gently at the corners of his mouth.

"'Morning, Spock. What's up?"

"I was merely wondering why we had not left the planet last night. Also, I may have said something that was unclear. The planet's atmosphere has made me rather tired and unable to express myself clearly. What I said last night – I meant that I think of you as a friend. I do not want you to get the wrong impression. That is all." Jim grinned impossibly wide, but it seemed that fatigue prevented the smile from reaching his eyes.

"Of course! What else could you have meant? What else could I have meant? I'm glad we're on the same page. And all that. Buddy." He clapped Spock on the shoulder a little harder than necessary and continued, "More importantly, I wasn't able to get everything quite worked out with the Faylans. I'll be talking to them again at lunch. Is that all?" Spock gave him a brief nod and walked away. Jim had made it perfectly clear that there was a completely platonic friendship between them. That didn't stop him from wanting to run a hand through that thick head of hair.

He found himself at Nyota's door and decided he wanted someone to talk to, even if he wasn't entirely pleased with the idea that she knew how he felt before he did. He preferred to be the one with the most insight to himself. Despite any resentment he might have shown, she gave him a small smile and let him in without a word.

"Have you thought things over?" she asked when the door was closed behind him.

"Yes. You are correct in your assertion. I have just come from his room. I am not sure how to act in his presence now that I am aware of my feelings towards him. Is this something that will pass?"

"Just act normal."

He raised his eyebrow in irritation. "Normal? And how would that be? I was acting much too familiar with him before, which caused you to discover my infatuation, long before I did, may I add. It is only a matter of time before he comes to the same conclusion you did. If he were to discover my feelings for him, he would have me transferred without hesitation. It would be unsatisfactory. Vulcans, as a rule, do not become infatuated with others often, and when they do, it is generally for long periods of time. If I were to be transferred, it is unlikely that my feelings would change and I would therefore be largely unhappy. I say this not out of a selfish desire to be happy, but out of concern for others, as I will not be as able to focus as I should and I may be inclined to act on my feelings in the future."

"I understand everything you said, but what I don't get is why you seem to be fine with the idea of being in love with him. I wouldn't expect someone who tries to be Vulcan as hard as you to openly admit to feeling love."

"It is not unheard of for a Vulcan to fall in love with a human, although such circumstances often lead to intense emotional discomfort. Despite that, such a relationship can function." He referred to, of course, what his father had said regarding his reasons for marrying his mother and their relationship. If his father, the most logical, emotionless Vulcan he had met, could succumb to such a strong emotion, who was he to resist the same? It was using that logic that allowed him to function somewhat normally without having an emotional breakdown or something of a similarly frivolous nature.

"Well, I'm glad you've accepted this. I figured I was going to have to fight you on it, so I waited a while before telling you. So, what's your game plan?"

"Game plan?"

"Yeah. So. How are you going to tell him and ask him to basically spend the rest of his life with you?"

"Have you not heard me at all? He does not have romantic feelings for me. How could he? That is completely foolish and I will do nothing of the sort. If he is ever to develop feelings for me, it- No. He will not. We will not discuss such things."

"Spock…" She was using a tone of voice he normally would have obeyed, but this was different.

"It is illogical," he muttered, mostly to himself.

"Well, hopefully, he'll realize that you're amazing and love you. Maybe you'll do the same." Spock considered the carpet for a few moments. He was unsure of how to respond.

"In all likelihood, I probably have something that demands my attention. I will take my leave." Spock stood and left, murmuring something optimistic at Nyota's farewell. He desperately needed something to be doing, something to be thinking, but the idea glued to his brain, that of Jim falling for him…well, that was not something he felt should be voiced aloud. Technically, it was harassment. And technically, he wasn't quite ready to think of it because that would mean imagining himself and Jim in some state of togetherness, and he wasn't quite ready for that yet. At the same time, the objective part of him wanted to observe himself viewing him romantically or sexually, curious as to what it might be like. His own sexuality was a previously untouched topic; it would make an interesting study.

* * *

His communicator alerted him to a call, showing that it was Jim. He answered, mentally preparing himself beforehand so that he would not say anything too friendly.

Amidst strange noises and angry voices in the background, Jim responded, "Hey, Spock, are you available? We've got a little issue, and I must say, shit is going _down_. And these fuckers have swords. Damn stupid teenagers. Can you meet me behind the church? I need you." The message was garbled, but still, he _needed_ him. It was obvious what he had to do.

"I will be there as soon as I possibly can." He flipped the communicator closed and headed into the town. The streets were nearly empty even though it was in the middle of the afternoon, but he remembered mention the night before of the church being at the center of the city. He followed the roads at a brisk jog, coming up neatly behind the church to see Jim peeking around the corner. When he saw Spock, he jumped a little.

"Hey. We've got some kind of situation. Apparently the kids in this place don't like each other too much, like their parents. I called you as soon as they took out their weapons."

"Let us assess the situation and attempt to keep the peace, then." Spock walked calmly around the church, spotting Mennio fencing with a youth he did not recognize. They traded amicable banter, neither attempting to injure the other. A little ways off, he spotted Roman walking towards the church, but his easy walk turned into a dead run. Before Spock or Jim could properly interfere, the boy was between his peers. There was shouting and Mennio backed away. Blood began to flow shortly after, from a wound in his chest. That was when it struck Spock, the similarity to a story his mother had told him as a child.

"Oh shit. This is _not _good," Jim breathes.

"This is how it is supposed to go. This is how he dies, an accident. _A plague on both your houses_." Spock stares off into the distance, feeling strangely mortal. Just the night before, this boy had seen himself in him.

"Shakespeare. My god. This is fucked." Jim looks from Roman to the other boy, then runs in without warning, grabbing a sword from the ground and aiming it at Roman's chest. Spock surges forward, calculating the exact angle necessary to push Jim out of the way, if need be. "Roman. Don't do something you'll regret." The boy is crying, looking at his dead friend and crying like a child while the sword trembles in his grip.

"I have to. He's my _friend_. My _brother_."

"I know, I know. Just let it go. You need to let it go."

"No. I won't." Roman looks down for a moment, lowering his blade, then darts to the side to stab the other boy around Jim. It would have been perfect if not for the fact that Jim was trained to be quick and had lightning fast reflexes. He darted in front of the sword, trying to grab the boy's wrist to jerk it out of the way. Spock nerve pinched Roman too late. A red blossom spread below Jim's shoulder. Everything had just fallen to shambles.

He grasped a cool wrist, feeling the elevated pulse thrumming slowly beneath his fingers, and pulled Jim away from the scene. Behind the church, he pulled out his communicator, feeling the angle of the wrist in his grip change as Jim slid down the wall to sit.

"Mr. Scott? Two to beam up. I suggest you also beam up Dr. McCoy."

"Spock, Ah cannae lock onto yer signal. Ah've got some sorta interference or malfunction. Somethin' on tha planet's surface is blockin' it. Yer on yer own til Ah can figure it out." Spock closed his eyes for a brief moment to form a plan.

"Spock? What's wrong? It can't be that bad," Jim asked, his voice sounding very far away.

"It seems we are unable to beam back to the Enterprise for an indefinite amount of time." Spock closed his mind off to anything that was Jim at that moment, calling Dr. McCoy.

"What is it, Spock? It better be good. I was in the middle of a conversation with the Chief of Medicine."

"The Captain has been stabbed in a sword fight and we are unable to beam aboard the Enterprise at this time."

"Dammit. Where are you?"

"Behind the church." A string of garbled and very colorful expletives trickled out of the speaker.

"I'll see what I can do. I'm at least a half hour away. In the meantime, apply pressure and find some sort of antiseptic. And slap the dumb son of a bitch for me, will you? Why'd he have to get mixed up with swords?" Spock ended the transmission and finally made himself look at Jim. The entire left side of his shirt was soaked in blood and he'd gone pale, much to pale for Spock's liking. He knelt beside the bleeding man and ripped off as much as he could of the part of his shirt that wasn't bloody, wadding it and pressing it to the wound. He did his best to ignore the sight of the toned, exposed shoulder and chest.

"Do you know of someplace we could procure alcohol or a similar antiseptic?" He kept his eyes focused on Jim's, not fond of the way they seemed to not really see him.

"Yeah. I went to this tavern last night with Bones after the diplomacy thing. It's around here somewhere, I think."

"How are your coordination, depth perception, and mental clarity? Are you able to walk?"

"Yeah, I'm feeling good enough to walk. It's not like you'll have to carry me or anything. I'm just a little fuzzy around the edges."

"Lead us to this tavern, then. I would prefer if you would speak as we walk there. It would be best to keep you as alert as possible until we have proper medical assistance."

"Oh, Spock. Don't you know you don't need to get me stabbed to make me talk to you?" Jim shot him a grin as Spock helped him to stand.

He raised a curious eyebrow. "Are you implying that I arranged for you to place yourself in a dangerous situation that resulted in serious injury so that you would speak to me?"

"Relax. I'm just joking. But I'll talk to you. Uh…what do you want me to say?"

"Anything. I have no preference."

"Fine. I'll start with…the beginning. Of my life-"

"I am already quite familiar with the circumstances at the time of your birth."

"Yeah, I know. Everyone knows about that, to be honest. No, I mean, like, my childhood and all that. You know. Anyway, so after I was born and all that, I lived in Iowa with my mom and brother. My mom, well, she loved us, she did, but she was never really a whole person, you know what I mean? There was always some piece of her that was missing. Sometimes, when she looked at me, it was like she thought I took it from her. I dunno. She just had this funny way of making me feel like it was all my fault without having to say anything. Sam always looked out for me though.

"When I was about eight, my mom married this guy, Frank. Basically, he was an asshole. Drank too much. Liked to push us around when he drank, too. This one time, he beat me and Sam so bad, he had to take us to the hospital. Said we fell off of some cliff. Mom wasn't really there that time. She sorta stopped looking at us. I didn't really see her much from then until I left for Starfleet. I mean, she loved us, but it kinda hurt her to see us. She really loved my dad, I guess.

"Anyway, school…so, I was pretty smart. Well, I was really smart. Back when I seven, I found out that other kids don't really like it when you do better than them on tests. I started scoring lower then. I aimed for average on every test I took in school except for one stupid test that I found on the internet. Turned out to be the test they look at to find new recruits for the Fleet. I just had that kind of luck, you know? God, mom hated it when I told her I was leaving to join. Well, I say that, but all she really did was look at me like I just told her the world was flat or something. Sam was long gone by then and so was Frank, so it wasn't like I really had anything to hold onto." Spock stopped him. The Captain was panting a little, his breathing shallow, and he was very, very pale. "Come on, Spock-o. Don't stop me now. We're almost there, anyway." He pointed a little bit down the street and Spock saw the sign for the pub. He was glad of it.

The door was unlocked, so it was relatively easy to get Jim inside. He Spock left him for a moment to procur a sealed bottle of liquor and came back to find him sprawled across the bar.

"Would you be surprised if I told you this wasn't the first time I've laid on a bar?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "No. I honestly would not. Especially since Vulcans are rarely surprised." He popped open the bottle and pulled Jim's hands away from the wound, pouring most of the bottle onto him in a swift motion. He winced, biting his lip, and Spock had to avert his eyes.

"God_damn_, that stings." He took the bottle, taking a large swig. A cool hand gripped the Vulcan's forearm. He felt pain, anger, but strangely, no fear. "Can I tell you something?" He gulps down another few swallows of the beverage.

"If you deem it necessary, I shall not prevent you from doing so."

"Why is it never a simple 'yes' or 'no' with you? Would it kill you to answer like a normal person and not in that sort of 'I'm insulting you because really, I'm entirely uninterested in anything you say, but I have to pretend to be polite so I'll use big words to hide the fact that I think you're completely stupid' way?" Spock was rather impressed that he managed to say all of that as fast as he did.

"If that is what you wanted to tell me, then I will say that the sole reason I answer in complete sentences, unlike must humans, is that I was taught proper grammar as a child." Jim shook his head and took another long drink.

"Nah, that wasn't what I was gonna say. I was gonna say that, well, remember when we were on the Narada?"

"No, I do not recall that event," he said, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Don't be such a smartass. Anyway, so you know how we got onto the Jellyfish and we were talking and you said something about how we were going to die?"

"Yes."

"Well, you know how you said something like, 'tell Lieutenant Uhura that I love her' and I cut you off? Well, I-"

"That is not what I had intended to say."

"Wait, what?"

"The entire statement was 'please tell Lieutenant Uhura I agree with her'."

"Agree about what?"

"She told me that you were 'competent and brilliant, but a bit of an asshole'. I had disagreed, claiming that it was a wonder you had learned how to form complete sentences let alone done well at the Academy. At that point, I had changed my mind." Jim was silent for a moment, still drinking.

"Thanks. I…I forgot what I was going to say." He sort of looked away, as if ashamed. Spock mentally kicked himself. He knew he shouldn't have said something so complementary, but it had just come out. He looked at his bleeding Captain and hoped that the man would take it as a simple complement, not as an admission of his infatuation.

Spock pressed his fingers to the wound, attempting to apply pressure again. He hated how red his blood was. It coated his fingers, slimy and unnatural. The hue was the most offensive he had ever laid eyes on. It actually _dared_ to gush from a wound on a man as great as James Tiberius Kirk…he hated the color red. It was completely irrational to feel strongly about a color, but he really didn't care about that. He just wanted to burn everything red that he could lay his hands on, once Jim was safe, of course.

"I'm not gonna die, Spock. Don't worry." He was nearly frightened that Jim knew him well enough to know that that's what he was thinking.

He lied quickly, "I was not at all worried about whether or not you will survive. I know you will." Jim grinned and shook his head, grasping the Vulcan's hand. He nearly flinched when their fingers met. His mouth opened to protest, then he remembered that his Captain had no idea that they were kissing. He'd just sit and bear it. Or enjoy it while it lasted. That thought made him want to pull away most; what he was doing could be considered sexual harassment, at the very least.

Spock tried his communicator again. McCoy was stuck behind a mob that had formed in the church courtyard and spread outward throughout the city. Scotty hadn't yet solved the malfunction with the transporter. They were trapped in place for the time being. The problem was, Jim was getting pale, very pale. Worse than that, his fingertips were cold and Spock could feel that his pulse had slowed. From what he could tell, Jim had half an hour, at most, before he bled out.

* * *

**A/N: So, this took me a while. NaNoWriMo is a total time-suck, especially when writer's block strikes. But HA! Chapter! With a cliffhanger...I am sorta sorry about that. **

**If anyone's still reading, I can't say I would mind you letting me know... (Subtle, eh?)  
**

**By the way, everyone who reviewed is awesome. 'Nuff said.  
**


	11. Chapter 11: We're Men of Snow

**A/N: W00T! Fast update...I don't want to jump the gun, but there is a chance you might expect another within a week. **

* * *

Ten minutes. His estimate gave Jim ten minutes of life. Ten minutes left. In all the universe, he could think of no one with more potential that would be wasted at the end of those ten minutes. He was completely out of options. There was no hope for an impromptu blood transfusion, since his own blood would probably cause him to have a severe reaction. On top of being allergic to nearly everything, it was like that Jim had a rare blood type anyway. He just had that sort of luck. That said, he had no idea where McCoy was, or even if he had a compatible blood type. Even the Captain himself was beginning to realize that he was running out of time, though Spock was doing his best to hide it.

"Don't worry, Spock. You'll make a great captain, if it come to that. I know you'll be good to her." Spock nearly broke. Jim _loved _the _Enterprise_. Like his own child. Not only that, but it was a little absurd of him to think that he was more worried about whether he'd be a competent captain than what he'd do without him. Certainly he knew he was more appreciated than that.

He ran through all of the possible positive solutions he knew of, to give him hope. "There is still time left. Doctor McCoy could still come for you, Mr. Scott could beam us back, or there could be another solution. It is much to soon to be speaking of that." He didn't bother computing the percent chance that they would be saved. He knew it was low, very, very low. He wanted to tell Jim that everything would be alright, but he couldn't lie that much.

"I'm going to die soon. We both know that. Just listen-"

"No. I will not listen to your ralk of death when it it is not certain. Not until every single option has been exhausted." He tried the doctor again.

"How is he, Spock? He's okay, right?" There was a lot of noise in the background, but it did not cover the concern evident in his tone.

"I am not entirely able to assess his status, but considering the volume of blood in the average human, the amount he has lost, and the amount necessary to sustain life, I estimate he has approximately nine minutes, with a percent error of three minutes. He is still conscious and lucid, which I assume is a positive indicator." It was a good thing that he was still talking. As long as he didn't say anything too bad. He'd already lost his mother and his planet; he couldn't handle losing Jim as well.

"Well, shit. There's no way I can get outta this crowd for at least another twenty minutes. The whole goddamn town seems to be here… I'll see what I can do. Just don't let that son of a bitch die, will you?"

"I will do my best." Jim looked at him, truly worried now that he has an actual time estimate. But Spock could tell from the connection of their fingers that he's still not afraid. He couldn't help but be in awe of the man bleeding out before him. To still be brave was quite possibly the most amazing thing he had witnessed. Even his own pulse was elevated in fear. He needed to go, to find the source of the transporter malfunction so they can get away, but that would mean leaving Jim. And he wouldn't let him die alone.

Jim interlocked their fingers, and he felt a little lightheaded. The idea of being able to touch him at all was remarkable, and being able to do so like that, even if it was not truly reciprocated, was simply beautiful. He knew he needed to tell him, but it seemed like the wrong time. It would be horrible of him to tell him that he was in love with him, to isolate him from the only person there, just moments before he died. Through the accompanying guilt, he couldn't help but think that it's rather nice, kissing him like that. The slight smile on the man's face made him feel a little better.

"At least I'll finally be able to meet my dad." Spock gave him a confused look. "You know, in the Great Beyond or whatever there is after death. I'll say hi to your mom, too. I'll make sure she's doing alright." The mention of his mother bites deeply into the shaky calm exterior he has constructed.

"Do you truly believe that after death, people go to a single, metaphysical place?" he deflected, regulating his breathing as best he could.

Jim looked at him for a long moment. "No. I don't. But I'd like to. It sounds nice. It's better than thinking about how, in a few minutes, I just won't exist." Spock saw his logic (or at least he claimed it was logic).

He said the most honest, comforting thing he can manage: "In that case, I believe my mother will like you." Jim stared at him. Precious seconds tick by. He exhales sharply then rolls his eyes.

"Oh, fuck it. I tried, I really tried, to make this easier on you and be all passive and just accept this. But I can't do it. James T. Kirk will not go out laying down. I'm gonna die on my feet, kicking and screaming until even Death will be afraid to take me." He sat up, swinging his feet to hand down against the bar. A slightly greenish hue colored his face as a wave of dizziness and nausea overtook him. Spock felt he should protest since it was only logical to keep the man completely still to minimize his pulse rate and blood flow to give him more time, but to stop him would be to suppress his personality. He couldn't do it. A large part of him was cheering Jim on, as human and illogical as that sounded.

The wounded man made it to his feet shakily. "You got a phaser, right?" Spock nodded, took the small weapon from its concealed position in the small of his back, and handed it to him. "This better work. I really should have thought of it sooner," he muttered, fiddling with the controls. He took a deep breath and shot himself in the chest before Spock had even realized what he was doing. A second's thought led him to realize what Jim had just done.

"You adjusted my phaser to fire at low setting, using it to cauterize your wound. Genius." Spock couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner. A small, dark part of him told him that he was too emotionally compromised by the situation to be able think clearly. That would mean that he was a danger to his Captain. He would have to consider that later.

He was given a very small, very weak grin. "You would've thought of it eventually. Now. Let's get this show on the road."

"To what 'show' would you be referring?"

"It's a turn-of-phrase. Let's just go find a way to get us out of here."

"It would not be wise for you to move excessively. You may have stopped your bleeding, but you still need to replenish the amount you have in your body."

"So, what then? We sit? That's lame."

"I would rather you complain of boredom than pass out from overexertion." Jim grumbled a little and sat in a chair. His eyes gazed forlornly at the bottle he had left on the bar, but he didn't get up to get it. "May I ask why, in the face of almost certain death, you were not afraid? It troubles me that one might care so little for their own life. While I am not a psychologist, I think it might be a negative sign concerning your mental health."

"Well, that was the somewhat harsh way to say that." Spock swallowed, cursing that in his rush to not sound enamored, he had seemed rude. "But I'll answer, I guess. I don't feel fear for my own life because in the grand scheme of the things, it doesn't matter. I'm just an over-grown farm boy from some little speck on the map in Iowa. Sure, I did some things other people haven't and I made good scores back at the Academy, but it's not long before someone realizes that I'm not what they think. That I don't really matter at all." There were a million responses on the tip of Spock's tongue that contradicted that statement, the most insistent of which being _but you matter to me_. But he couldn't say that. Nothing he felt, _knew_, really, could be pronounced. A First Officer couldn't say such things to their Captain. It was entirely inappropriate. So he held his tongue.

A heavy silence fell over them. In the quiet, Spock imagined he could hear the slow beating of Jim's heart. He urged the other man's body to replenish his cells, to create new blood, but he knew it was hopeless. The feeling of guilt for not having corrected him filled him, so he tried his best not to think. There was not much he could say, in any case. It was too late

A sensation coursed through his body, one he recognized as soon as he saw the swirl of white lights surrounding his Captain. The transporter. Mr. Scott had fixed it. Jim would have medical attention. It was all he wanted.

* * *

The transport room faded into focus. He heard a soft thud as gravity pulled Jim from the sitting position he had been in onto the hard surface of the transport pad. He let out a low groan. Spock looked around quickly, seeing Doctor McCoy beginning to appear on another pad. A second later, the doctor was at Jim's side, calling for more medical personnel. He watched them carry his protesting form away to the Medical Bay. It all seemed to happen much faster than it could have. In the blink of an eye, it was all over. Spock had not yet moved. Instinct told him to follow to Medical, but duty told him to go to the bridge. Adjusting his shirt, he followed the latter of the two impulses and went to the bridge.

"Mr. Sulu, can you give me any information on the status of the riot?" Surprised, Sulu, turned around.

"No, sir. We've had no communication from the four of you since yesterday. Where is the Captain?"

"In Medical. Doctor McCoy is treating him. I expect he will be in suitable health in an hour or two. The communications systems should be in working order now. Please confer with Lieutenant Uhura on her progress." Spock took the Captain's chair, receiving Scotty's preliminary reports on the interference with the transporter. However, his efforts were more focused on not running to the Medical Bay to check up on Jim. He'd go when forty-five minutes had passed, he tells himself. His responsibilities on the bridge had to be dealt with before any personal impulses. Telling himself that did not make the seconds pass by any faster.

* * *

When he finally allowed himself to leave, he let Mr. Scott resume his command of the bridge. He was uncommonly nervous. The idea of seeing Jim in a compromised condition did not compute for him. But in the Sickbay, there would be no hiding from it. A certain level of self-control was regained in the elevator when he was allowed a nearly private moment.

Jim did not actually appear as worse-for-wear as he had imagined. His pallor was chalkier than usual and there was a needle pushing fresh blood into his veins, but he was laughing when Spock entered. In fact, he was flirting with a blond nurse who, thankfully, seemed to be unaffected. That was a very good thing. He was not fully recovered from his previous emotional turmoil and would, in all probability, have use the nerve pinch on her. It was most unbecoming of a Vulcan and First Officer. And jealousy was a very human emotion, one he would be ashamed to act on.

"Spock! Hey! How are things on the bridge? Did you tell them an impressive story about how I got hurt?" Jim's smile managed to melt him just a little bit.

"I have not yet shared the circumstances of your stabbing. Mr. Scott has proved to be an adequate Second Officer." The smile faded slightly .

"Okay. Good. Well, thanks for checking on me." Despite not fully understanding humans, he knew that Jim's message was clear: _it was a nice gesture, but I'd really like it if you left now_. The reason for the message troubled him, as he could not figure out what it was. So Spock stared at him, drumming his fingers on the biobed. He knew that it was social protocol to leave, but he wanted to say...something. Anything. If it would make him want him there. But Jim covered his restless fingers with his own. "I didn't mean-I just…Thank you." He lightly touched the tips of their first fingers together and smiled.

Spock nodded stiffly. "You are welcome." He withdrew his hand, feeling like a dirty liar, and left. Guilt weighed heavy on his conscience. He really needed to meditate.

A rough hand on his forearm yanked him into McCoy's office. The door was shut behind him sharply and the doctor's expression was positively murderous. The man had caught him entirely off guard, otherwise he couldn't imagine that he would have been so pliable. The rage evident in his expression made him unreasonably concerned for his safety.

"What the fuck do you think you're _doin'_?!" he hissed. A vein bulged in his temple.

"To what are you referring?" Spock asked, entirely confused.

"That little display just now! You know just as well as I do that there's as much a chance of me skiin' in hell as there is Jim _kissin'_ you." Spock's mouth unwillingly opened slightly. "_Yeah_, I know a little more about Vulcans than you thought. And we both know that there's no way he'd be doin' _that_ if he knew. So I'm gonna tell you one time, _and one time only_, to stop before I show you exactly how much I know about Vulcan anatomy in the most painful way possible. _Am I in any way unclear_?" The half-Vulcan was shocked. He'd had absolutely no idea that McCoy would know of Vulcan kissing, not to mention that he had observed them engaged in such an act. Of course, he was entirely correct about everything. Jim obviously would not be participating if he knew. After all, Spock was basically not at all what he wanted.

"I understand you completely. If it is of any merit, I would like to apologize for my actions."

"Save it for _him_." McCoy snorted. "You know, I never thought you were the type to take advantage of someone like that, let alone get some creepy little crush on _Jim_, of all people. Dammit, just stay away from him. He's got enough on his plate without you harassin' him."

He shook his head, his eyes a little wider than normal. "It was not my intent, I give you my word." Then McCoy's expression softened a little.

"Look, I'm just tryin' to look out for my best friend."

"I would never cause him bodily harm on purpose. It was an accident. I implied something to shield him from the truth, so that he would not be put under any mental or emotional stress, and it has worked a bit too well. If I try to stop him now, he will believe that I do not consider him a friend anymore. Is it not better for him to continue in ignorace than to deal with the stress of having to find a new First Officer?" The doctor frowned.

"I'm still pissed at you, let's get that straight, but I kinda get what you're sayin'. I might believe that you aren't tryin' to hurt him, but I don't like it."

"I assure you, my intentions towards him are entirely harmless. I am also well aware that my sentiments are not returned and that an aggressive declaration of them would be most unfortunate for both parties. I, quite obviously, have no intention of informing him, and I would appreciate if you would do the same."

He shook his head. "I don't want to get involved in any of this. So don't do anythin' that would make me have to get involved. You get my drift?" Spock nodded. They stood there for a moment, silent. Then, "So you really are in love with him, then? Well, shit. That sucks." He nodded in agreement. They went silent again, tension drawing out the long moments in the too-small room. "This is awkward…"

"I will leave you to resume…whatever action you must have been in the middle of before I interrupted you." Hands clasped behind his back, he left, taking a deep breath when he reaches the corridor. Having the Chief of Medicine angry with him would not be at all productive, he thought. Besides that, the brief encounter made him rather angry with himself. He definitely needed to meditate. The past several hours had been trying, emotionally, and he needed time to restore his Vulcan inner calm. Though thinking it didn't quell the feeling that he was entirely amoral for misleading Jim thus far. He hated himself in that moment.

* * *

After the drama was over, diplomatic proceedings went amicably. After the incident in front of the church, a very shaky truce had formed, then been cemented by the announcement of a marriage between two members of the younger generation. The alliance had created a wave of peace that spread over the planet. Not only that, but the Faylans had agreed to become members of the Federation. It was all Starfleet could have hoped for. James T. Kirk had once again proven that he was more than competent.

But Spock had decided upon a new strategy to employ during his meditation concerning the triumphant Captain: complete isolation from him, but to the extent that he was still professional and completed his duties. Any true interpersonal relationship needed to stop at once. It would only complicate matters further and deepen his infatuation. Surprisingly, he was doing quite well at the whole 'avoiding Jim' thing. It was much easier than he had imagined. Or at least, that's what he needed to tell himself.

* * *

A weak of dull, uneventful space-travel later, Nyota began to bother him about it. She had taken to talking about Jim when they sat at lunch together, very pointedly, and would systematically leave him in situations in which they would be alone in a room together. He, of course, was quite skilled at escape from those circumstances, having had years of training during his childhood when he needed to escape from bullies. It was a while before anyone confronted him about it though. But when someone did, he was more than surprised at who they were.

"Goddammit, I didn't tell you to avoid him completely! Just to lay off the finger-neckin'!" The doctor surprised Spock more than he would have liked. Luckily, they were in a secluded area of the Officer's Mess so they weren't overheard.

"Excuse me?" He wore his carefully-constructed mask of the typical polite, emotionless Vulcan expression.

"You heard me. Really, I can't take him whinin' about 'Spock this' and 'stupid Vulcan that'. It wears on a man after awhile. He keeps badgerin' me like _I _know why you won't do more that say 'Yes, Captain' to him. Just _talk_ to the poor bastard. He's drivin' me crazy."

"It is for the best that we do not interact on a more-than-professional level."

"Say what you want, he's gonna snap at you one of these days, and you're not gonna like it."

Spock doubted such a thing would happen. Obviously, McCoy was exaggerating. Jim probably had not noticed at all. After all, why would _Jim _notice him?

* * *

**A/N: Goodness...there's a chapter! Since I have an entire week off of school for Thanksgiving, I'll probably be able to write and post another chapter by next Sunday. **

**So, I think it's pretty awesome that people keep reading this...I must say, it's kinda inspiring. So this chapter is for everyone who stuck with it...because you're just about as awesome as Jim Kirk. Which is pretty darn awesome.**

**Oh, and on a semi-related tangent, not only have I gotten one of my band directors hooked on Star Trek, but my math teacher (who's a total beast for letting me draw Jim, Spock, and Bones on her whiteboard and not letting them be erased) is a trekkie as well. Which is pretty sweet. So, kudos to them. If you actually bothered to read all this, give yourself a really big cookie.  
**


	12. Chapter 12: Make My First Steps

"You seem troubled," Spock noted. Deep lines accented his features, showing that there must have been a smile or two to brighten his face, despite his training, and little patches gray hair were clearly visible in his thinning bowl cut.

His younger counterpart replied, "I am conflicted. I am not sure how you will perceive what I am about to tell you, but I must proceed. You are the only one who could possibly aide me in my understanding."

"'The best way to tell me is to simply tell me.'"

"That is an illogical statement." He was the teeniest bit annoyed, but mostly just nervous.

"It is something Jim used to say."

Spock could not have asked for a more perfect segue. "On the topic of Jim, I have something I must confess. I…" He looked down from the holoscreen, unable to meet his own eyes. "I believe I am in love with him," he finished quietly, almost as if he were ashamed. He did not lift his gaze to see his aged self's reaction. He simply couldn't. It was as if her were saying such a thing to his father. The threat of disappointment loomed over his head.

"Finally." The younger Spock looked up sharply. He saw a large smile, a contradiction on the lined half-Vulcan face.

A flicker of hope, a flare of surprise. "Please clarify your meaning."

"I will, but only because your surprise amuses me." The smile turned mischievous, and maybe the smallest bit mocking. "Jim and I were _lovers_. _T'hy'la_. For most of the time we served together on the _Enterprise_. We had a passionate, enduring relationship that spanned decades, ending only in his death. I have been in love with him since the moment I met him…" He paused, reflecting on something a little sad. "Seeing him again on Delta Vega was…surreal. He was only a little younger than when I had first met him. And since then, our years together…I can promise that every trial you will ever face, every wound you will sustain, every moment of entirely, blatantly emotional panic you will feel when you see him broken and bruised, will be worth it, for him." Spock could not entirely comprehend what he had just heard. He had imagined that his older self would be somewhat disgusted by his love for his friend. At the very most, he imagined his counterpart might have been in the same predicament – being in love with him, in a horribly unrequited manner. He would offer him advice on how to cope and they would share moments of the man's greatness. But to be told that it had existed, even in another universe…that presented a whole different perspective…

"You two were involved," he repeated, trying to wrap his head around the idea. "_Intimately_."

"Yes."

"You have participated in sexual intercourse with him?" Part of him was embarrassed at the question, but it was himself that he was asking, so it was not as awkward as it could have been.

There is no shame, as he would usually associate with the act, only truth. "Yes. Many times." A thought strikes him, from a conversation he recalled.

"He is the reason why you advised me to wait to find a mate. He was yours."

"Yes."

"I am…unsure of how to proceed, then. Should I…pursue him?" The elder Spock laughed.

"Jim is a complicated human being. He will interpret any action you perform as platonic, unless, of course, you were to kiss him right on the mouth! Although he might interpret that as merely friendly as well. You must let him come to you. I was in love with him for months before he finally told me of his feelings, and during that entire time I had been wooing him in a Vulcan and Human fashion, neither of which were actually successful. Of course, it is possible that your Jim is more promiscuous than mine was. My Jim, while flirtatious, always put duty first."

"So, I should not attempt to seduce him?"

"I would suggest that you leave subtle clues (subtle to _him_, not you, by the way) that show that you are interested in him."

"What if the differences between your Jim and mine are large enough that he will not develop romantic feelings for me?"

The aging Vulcan looked almost exasperated. "You are still fundamentally the same people, still fundamentally t'hy'la. That will not change through any circumstances." The younger Spock looked down for a moment. He was unsure of what to do. The idea that they were _meant_ to be together changed things. He still felt guilty for lying to him, but that transgression was made smaller by the knowledge that it was meant to happen anyway. He bid farewell to his counterpart, hardly paying any attention, as his mind was still in turmoil.

The floor was warm when he sat on it, trying to enter the proper state of mind that would allow him to sort everything out. Meditation would be a good way to calm himself. Deep breaths. _In, out, in, out, in-_ His efforts were hindered by a very loud, insistent knock at his door. Apparently someone had forgotten that there was a doorbell. He gave himself three guesses as to who it could be, disregarding the first two.

"Godammit, Spock! Open the fucking door! You can't avoid me forever, you green-blooded bastard!" Spock nearly smiled as he got up and opened the door.

"My mother and father were married at the time of my birth." The angry word on Jim's lips died and was replaced by open-mouthed confusion. It seemed an explanation was necessary. "It is not possible for me to be a 'bastard', as you just called me, because my mother was married to my father when she gave birth to me," he repeated. A flash of understanding was very quickly overshadowed by anger.

"Whatever. I don't care about that. What I care about is that for some stupid reason, you've decided that I'm not worth your time. Well, I've got a news flash for you: _get over it_. You're stuck with me, so you better get used to it. Just get out of your little Vulcan temper tantrum and be my friend again, you big green idiot. _Trust me_, you don't want to screw this up only to wonder on your next away mission if I've _really_ got your back." Spock was amused, to say the least. It was endearing that Jim valued their friendship enough to yell at him about it.

"Of course." Jim sputtered and gaped.

"'_Of course_'? Just-just like that?"

"Yes. Would you be interested in a game of chess after dinner?" Jim stared at him for a while, as if he were a puzzle. Looking back on his actions, he realized that he must have appeared as exactly that.

"Alright. I can do that. Half an hour, then?"

"Yes. That would be most agreeable." He looked at him for a brief moment. "In fact, if you had intended on dining in the Officer's Mess, it would be my pleasure if you would allow me to accompany you."

"Uh, yeah. Sure. That sounds good. I guess. You, uh, wanna go then?"

"Of course." Jim grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. He seemed to realize that he had just done something wrong and his brilliant smile turned sheepish. "It is of no consequence. I am making an attempt at familiarizing myself with your unique quirks, including your propensity for initiating physical contact." The grin returned and Spock nearly smiled himself. He liked that he could make him smile just by saying something.

* * *

As he sat across the table from Jim, he thought it might all just work out. It was easy to be friendly, even affable, humorous, with him. Surprisingly so. It was strange how easily words and subtle jests rolled off his tongue. Not only that, but it was very easy to fall back into the habit of being friendly. He managed to glimpse McCoy when he first saw them sitting across from each other. His expression was a curiously human mixture of gratitude and resentment. He seemed almost to be warning him while sending him a polite 'thanks'. But then again, the doctor was very strange for a human.

It was completely natural when they shifted from eating in a very public setting to retiring on opposite sides of a chessboard in Jim's private quarters. Spock was grateful for the game, for the opportunity it provided to metaphorically stretch him logic and mental processes. Jim was somewhat "off his game"; he seemed to be very distracted. Sensing this, he played primarily on the defensive until he was ready to focus. When three quarters of an hour had passed and the game had not gone much further than a simple rotation of the playing pieces, he was forced to speak.

"May I offer a monetary unit in exchange for your reflection on your current mental tangent?" He was, of course, rewarded with a confused stare. Spock knew that he had made a mess of that phrase. "My mother used to say something along a similar line of thought. I cannot quite remember the specific terminology that she used."

"You mean 'penny for your thoughts'?"

"Yes. That is the phrase. It seems rather absurd, come to think of it, but I feel you would be more receptive to the sentiment when stated in a familiar way."

"It's nothing, really. I'm just a little stressed, I guess. Haven't been sleeping much." Spock doubted his inner turmoil had anything to do with his sleeping habits.

"I have an idea. As past encounters have shown that it is often, very nearly always, you who has inquired into my personal affairs, it is only polite that I return the inquiry. Since you find much amusement in asking of my romantic endeavors, may I ask you a personal query? Are you currently involved with anyone? Is that what is causing you distress and a lack of mental acuity?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I chose to go monk for a while. I thought it might be a good idea for a little while. And, well, it's not like I've ever really been interested in something long-term and it's not very captainly to sleep around with my crew."

"I understand your sentiment. Technically, I am in a similar position as only two officers aboard this vessel are not below me in rank, and one of those two is myself. But I cannot claim that I have never been interested in a long-term relationship, for that is the Vulcan way. I cannot imagine what it would be like to not want to cherish someone for as long as health will allow."

"Wow…that's sorta intense. I thought Vulcans couldn't feel emotion? Love is definitely an emotion."

"It is my logic that if one of the most dedicated Vulcans I know of, my father, can admit to loving someone, a human, even, then it is permissible for me to as well."

"But you never admitted to loving anyone. Should I take this to mean you've moved on from our dear, sweet Nyota?"

"It seems you are amused by your own sarcasm. But yes, I have found someone that I actually, genuinely have affection for. It's as if all the things I had to pretend with Nyota are real. I find the experience quite enjoyable."

"What's this? Spock has a crush? Do tell." Jim's grin was purely gleeful.

"I will not divulge the identity of this person."

There was an overstated and, somehow, calculatingly sexy, pout. "Come on. _Please_, Spocky?" He nearly gave in, but then he remembered what he'd be sharing and stifled the urge to "spill".

"No. The focus of this conversation is on-"

"I'm just gonna have to guess, then. Let's see…not Uhura…ooh! That nurse! What's-her-name! Chapel, I think it is."

"Who?"

"You know, the pretty blonde with the big blue eyes! Oh, forget it. It's obviously not her…uh, is it Rand? She's cute, you know."

"I assume you are referring to the yeoman I have seen you conversing with on occasion. My answer is no. You will not guess who I am infatuated with, so I would suggest that you cease this line of questioning and resume our game."

"Why? Do I know this person?"

"Yes. Now. It is your move."

"Ooh, really…I'll figure it out. Just give me a little time…" His long fingers moved a knight, probably, Spock figured, to put a stop on his requests to continue the game. Spock doubted that Jim would ever get anywhere close to, well, himself, considering that he probably had no idea that he even could have feelings for men. That would be a problem, he thought.

"I guarantee you that you will not come across the identity of this person unaided." Jim seemed to sense that he was right, and sank into a sulk. "Have you really not had a long-term partner? What of Uhura's roommate? The Orion? I believe her name was Gaila."

"Ah…Gaila. Not only has she died, but we were never really more than friends with benefits. Well, sort of. It's complicated."

"I assure you, I have a very high IQ and advanced mental processing abilities. I will be able to comprehend anything you could possibly tell me."

"Fine. It's time you learned the truth, I guess." He took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for something. "So, I began seeing Gaila about two months before the whole Nero incident. It wasn't at all serious, I mean, it started out just as some flirting, which I do with everyone, by the way, but then it sort of got…interesting. She appealed to me in a way very few had before. And it wasn't just the Orion hormones. She was…great, in her own sort of way. Well, despite that, I got bored of her. She was just missing something, I guess.

"Anyway, that was about the time I started preparing for your little bitch of a test. I did the best I could using legitimate means the first two times, but by the second attempt, I already formed a plan. I, of course, built a subroutine that changed the parameters of the test, as you well know. What you never found out, though, was how I initiated it. See, I told Gaila before the test that I had something for her, something I needed to tell her, that I would send to her that day, at three. Well, while I was in the test, Gaila, who worked in the observation lab just above my testing room, opened the email I sent her, triggering the subroutine and, in effect, disabling the Klingons' shields.

"That was one of the main reasons I was with her at all. The other was, well, personal, I guess. But there you have it. How the infamous James Tiberius Kirk cheated your impossible test." Spock noted, with some amusement and a lot of curiosity, that Jim turned a very slight pink whenever he mentioned the reason why he was attracted to Gaila.

"So, why, then, did you initiate a relationship with her?"

"Like I said, it's personal. I'd need quite a few rounds of some very strong drinks before I ever told anyone about that. Hey! Maybe we should start drinking! I'll tell you about that little side of me, and you'll tell me about this girl you like."

"I…" Spock considered it for a moment. If he were to drink alcohol, it would no doubt produce either a very minute effect or none at all. That would mean that Jim would be inebriated and he would not be. He would be in full control of himself. "That sounds like a suitable plan for an evening between friends." Jim gaped at him. He had rather nice teeth, Spock noticed.

"Really? Like, for real? You're agreeing to drink with me?"

"As I have heard you say to McCoy, 'for realsies, babe'. I would like a chance to observe such a situation." The captain positively beamed. He leaped from his chair and went to a small cupboard. He began mixing liquids he retrieved from the cupboard along with some items he produced using his replicator. Spock stared at the board, calculating moves. After a few moments, he was joined at the small table by a pitcher, two glasses, and a very excited looking blond. He stared at the drink that was poured for him. It looked…suspicious. It was a murky brown color containing a few very small white flecks of something he did not recognize. Jim took a big gulp from his glass, his grin still not worn off.

"Come on, drink up. It's really good…my own mix. I've been making these since I was sixteen. Guaranteed to knock out a Klingon in twenty ounces, or I'm not a Starfleet captain. Besides, their delicious." The Vulcan held the glass in his hand, inspecting it with a certain amount of skepticism. It truly looked foul that close to his face. However, if it would make Jim talk… He downed the entire glass in one long swallow.

"Is that satisfactory?" The man looked shocked.

"Yeah. You know, you're always welcome to sleep in my quarters if you need to. Or pass out. You know. Whatever." But Spock wasn't listening. The drink had tasted very strange, as he had imagined. It was sweet, a little creamy, with several flavors he had never encountered. Overall, it was passable. He poured himself another, disregarding the tingle in his fingertips. That always sort of happened when he saw Jim.

"It is your move." Jim smiled and moved his queen, taking his only remaining knight. It was several moves and plenty of sips later before Spock began to notice a change. Jim had grown a little pinker than usual and wore a large, sloppy grin. It was sort of a reckless smile, in a way. He was not familiar with it. The Vulcan himself, who had finished off three very large glasses, was feeling a little…loose. He was comfortable. That's what it was. That's why he'd let his barriers down, allowing himself to relax and absorb any emotions that would be sent to him through a touch.

"So…Spock. Tell me about this girl." He merely shook his head. "Come on."

"Not until you tell me what was so special about Gaila."

"I asked first."

"Well, that would be a personal problem. I will not even come close to answering until you do."

"That's not fair. Not fair at all."

"No. It isn't." He was treated to a mock glare and an admittedly cute pout.

"Fine. But only because I've already drunk more than I should have of this sewage. Don't blame me if you don't like my answer." Spock rolled his eyes. Then he noticed that he'd rolled his eyes. He should probably slow down on the drinks. "I flirt with everyone, you know that. It's just how I say hello. That's all. Gaila was like that too, actually, which made us pretty good at getting along and being friends and all that shit. But the reason I slept with her, was not because she moves and is a woman. Hell, I don't know where people get the idea that I only like women. Or even that I like women most…anyway. I only slept with her because she's green." Spock cocked his head, raising an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, I slept with he because she's green. There. My secret's out. I have a weakness for hot bodies with a bit of a viridescent hue. So far, most of the people I have truly enjoyed sleeping with were Orion. I mean, I'll admit, they were a little…Wizard of Oz. Maybe a little too green. But whatevs. I don't judge." It seemed he had a fighting chance. Spock very nearly grinned. In fact, he actually did smile a little. Which was alarming. Even when given good news, he did not smile. And really, his fingers were buzzing a lot more than normal. He couldn't be reacting to the alcohol…that simply was not possible. He took another look at the pitcher.

"Jim, what is in this drink of yours?"

"Let's see…coconut milk, cream, Kahlua, some coconut shavings for pizzazz, and chocolate liqueur."

"Pardon me, but it almost sounded like you said 'chocolate liqueur'."

"Yeah, I did. It makes it yummy…why?" Spock looked at his glass and pushed it away. That was not good. Not good at all. Chocolate was not something he'd planned on.

"I need to retire to my own quarters." He looked at the chessboard, and move a rook. "Checkmate." Without even looking at Jim's face, he left, nearly running to his adjacent room. He looked around in circles, unsure of what to do. Taking deep, shaky breaths, he steadied himself at his bathroom sink, looking up at his reflection. His cheeks were a little greener than usual, whether from embarrassment or increased blood flow from the release of endorphins from the chocolate, he wasn't sure. More than that, though, he looked afraid. The one thing running through his mind was _What if I hadn't realized? What if I had told him?_ The image of being thrown from his room bit into him, but it didn't seem quite so probable, given what he'd learned. The problem was that what frightened him more than the idea of rejection was the thought that he might have been accepted, lovingly, into Jim's arms, but in the morning, when the substances had all but left their major organ systems, Jim would regret whatever had happened.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry, this is a little later than I expected. I'm sorta trying to wrap this whole thing up. The muse has bitten me, trying to push me in the direction of a completely new story. But I will finish this out before embarking on that...so yeah. We're good. Um, enjoy!**

**Guys, y'all are beasts. Just thought I should let ya know. Because you are. I've never actually seen people read and review anything or wanted to _actually finish_ a story. So, kudos to you guys. Tribbles for all.  
**


	13. Chapter 13: Smile Like You Mean It

**A/N: Hey, so just a warning...this chapter is slashier than the last few. If that's not your thing, well, I'm really not sure why you're reading, but I'd be remiss in my duties if I didn't mention something. **

* * *

Jim would not stop grinning at him. He suspected it had something to do with the fact that, in his mind, they had become "drinking buddies". Of course, they would never drink together again, at least not if Jim was making the drinks. It had been much too close a call for it to ever be repeated. Despite that, the information he gained from the encounter would prove to be valuable. He could use the attraction to green to his advantage. It was common knowledge that Vulcans had superior control over their bodies, including the ability to restrain most blushes. He would use the ability in the opposite manner. Being a little bit greener when around Jim really couldn't hurt.

Sometime in what would be called the afternoon by some (sixteen hours, twelve minutes, and thirty-six seconds, to be precise), they were hailed by another vessel. The hull announced it as the USS _Napoleon_, when Chekov brought up a three-dimensional image, a _Hawking_-class starship. It was much smaller than the _Enterprise_, probably able to hold a hundred officers, at most. It was a scouting vessel, not at all suited for real combat, like their own ship. The Captain, Captain Howell, as the information Chekov had pulled up named her, was a precisely clean and business woman with a sharp stare.

"Greetings, Captain. This is Captain James T. Kirk speaking. What can my crew and I do for you?" Jim asked, taking a professional posture and serious facial expression. It was something of a wonder that Jim could be casual and friendly one minute, and the very image of a perfect captain the next. Well, not just an image. He had a certain bearing, an aura, even, of command when he wanted. And even sometimes when he wasn't trying at all.

"Well, Captain Kirk, our vessel was forced to take a detour from our current mission in the Delta quadrant. An asteroid field blocked our trajectory. The detour used up most of our fuel. We are unable to reach the next Starfleet refueling station before exhausting our current supply. Would you happen to have any dilithium crystals to spare?"

"We'd be happy to supply you with enough to reach a Starfleet base. Just send over one of your engineers. We're sending you the coordinates of our transport pad right now."

"Thank you. Of course, I will be accompanying him on board, as per regulation."

"Of course. I'll be there to meet you, with my First Officer and Chief Engineer, you know, as per regulations." He ended the transmission.

"Captain?" Spock studied his face.

"It's nothing, just a feeling. Let's proceed with caution." He informed Scotty that his presence was needed in the transporter room. Sulu took over the bridge as both Jim and Spock went to the turbo lift. They both stood at perfect attention in the small space, but Jim felt the need to break the silence. "So, after shift, you up for a chess game?"

Spock allowed himself to green a little. "Yes. That would be satisfactory." He glanced over at the other man, satisfied with the little smirk tugging at the visible corner of his mouth. It was a rather nice smirk, he thought. But when he saw the other ship's Captain with her chief officers standing on the transport pad, a feeling told him that something was going to happen. He was not at all inclined to trust a feeling, considering that, well, he's a _Vulcan_, but he couldn't quite shake it either.

The woman's posture is superb, he noticed. Having witnessed the perfect posture of many a Vulcan, he was familiar with the sharp, stiff appearance of one who had chosen to hold their spine in the position it was intended to be in. She held a sense of formality that he respected, something that could only have been hinted at by the brief transmission on their view screen. The officers under her command held themselves in an imitation of the same professional bearing. He was quite impressed.

"So!" Jim said, bringing his hands together in a gesture that seemed somehow too casual, too unprofessional for their present company. "My Chief Engineer, Mr. Scott, would be delighted to show your engineer to the engine room and work everything out. Captain Howell, I would be pleased to offer you a tour of the ship while we wait."

"That would be agreeable. My officers would thoroughly enjoy meeting their counterparts. That would leave you and I free to discuss Captains' matters."

"Of course. My First Officer has nearly encyclopedic of the ship. I think he may have memorized every plan ever made for this shiny hunk of metal." It was not necessarily a true statement, but it allowed Spock to accompany Kirk and Captain Howell, which he was grateful for. He was disinclined to be separated from Jim for any period of time, especially not if it meant leaving him in the company of a woman, even one who would, in all probability, not attempt a romantic interaction with him. Which was a good thing; he would not want his record to be tarnished by what would be labeled as 'unprovoked assault'.

"Then that will be an excellent arrangement," she replied with a glance at the two of them. Jim shot her a charming grin and extended his arm in a proper gentlemanly fashion. She ignored it, but followed him down the hallway. "So, my crew and I have been in space for the past eight months. When we left port, the _Enterprise_ was still under construction. Please don't take this personally, but you seem rather young to be the Captain of Starfleet's flagship."

"Yes, well, _that's_ kind of a long story…" Despite this, Jim told her the tale in full, perhaps embellishing certain details, although Spock carefully corrected him when his elaborations went to far. The muted surprise evident in her face when he spoke of the numerous vocal and physical altercations between them made him remember that very first mission with an odd sort of fondness. Afterwards, he and Jim took turns supplying information about the ship. There was an ease with which words flew from the two of them that made it seem as if there were only one speaker. It was something the Vulcan noticed and took much pleasure in.

Their little tour of the ship covered three levels and lasted an hour and a half, including a good chunk of time on the bridge exploring various new technological improvements, before Captain Howell got a message from her engineer. They walked her back to the transport room, Jim telling her just how grateful he was to have met her, and said their goodbyes.

"Thank you, Captain. This was…enlightening. I have most definitely enjoyed your hospitality and that lovely tour of your ship. Thank you again for the dilithium crystals." Jim smiled warmly at her.

"No, no, really, it was our pleasure." She looked at them both again and nodded, stepping onto the platform with her officers. McCoy and Scotty were standing in the room, having spent time with the other Chief Medical Officer and Chief Engineer. They were smiling politely as Scotty instructed his men to beam them back to their own ship. With a swirl of lights, the platform was emptied.

"Well!" Jim started. "That was fun! Back to work, boys." He flashed them all a grin and gave Spock a firm pat on the shoulder, indicating that they return to the bridge. In the turbolift, he said, "So, I think that went well. I didn't mean to drag you into that tour. I just knew that you'd keep me from making too much of an ass of myself. And it was a lot more fun with you there." Spock said nothing but greened just a tinge and gave a small smile. He felt Jim's fingers find his at his side and his flush grew a little deeper, though not entirely artificially. The door opened and Jim waited a moment before letting go of his hand. From what he could see, no one on the bridge had noticed. He had no idea if it seemed to be a romantic gesture among humans, but he knew it was possible someone might recognize it. Namely, Nyota. He already felt guilty enough without her commenting on it.

He did his work quietly and efficiently, as usual, only pausing when he felt Jim's eyes on the back of his head. Several hours passed almost unnoticed before their replacements started filing in for their shifts. Spock left for dinner as nonchalantly as possible, only glancing once at Jim before entering the turbolift. Despite that, he was not at all surprised when the Captain joined him in the lift just before the door closed.

"So. Spock. Dinner, huh? You wanna eat in my quarters tonight?"

"Ordinarily, that would be a most satisfying arrangement. However, I have several journals that I have allotted time for this evening. I suspect a meal and the chess game that would surely follow would not give me sufficient time to read and annotate. If you are intent on dining with me, than I propose we do so in my own quarters. I will be less inclined to be distracted from my obligations that way."

"I distract you?" Spock looked over to find Jim smirking at him. He colored a little and chose not to say anything. "Alright, your place, then." It struck him that that would be the first time that Jim had entered his quarters. He really did not feel as strong an attachment to his suite as most humans did, quite possibly because there were no personal items on display. His room only contained the furniture, hygiene products, and clothing issued by Starfleet. Inexplicably, he still felt a little nervous about Jim entering the place where he slept, bathed, and spent his free time.

"What food item should I replicate for you?" Spock asked, trying to take control of the situation.

"Oh, uh, I'll have whatever you're having. Or a burger. Whatever." Spock went over to the replicator and stared at it for a moment. He hadn't thought of what he wanted to eat. Usually he had either some form of salad or a bowl of plomeek soup. But tonight he wanted something a little different. He perused the menu for a moment before deciding on a vegetarian burger for himself and a hamburger for Jim. He paced the burgers and two glasses of water on the little table in his main room. Jim was sitting on his bed, looking around, but he sat at the table when Spock sat down.

"You know, your room looks just like mine before I put stuff in it. It's kinda weird."

"Your room is approximately 2.38 square feet larger than my own."

"Really? Weird."

"I suspect it is Starfleet's way of reminding the Captain and First Officer of who is in command."

"That's pretty lame." Jim took a large bite of his hamburger as Spock took a small, dainty bite of his vegetable alternative. He ate slowly, finding that his meal was less revolting than he would have expected of a human food item.

"Is your meal satisfactory?"

Jim smiled. "Yeah. Is your meal satisfactory?" Spock got the feeling that he was being mocked.

"Yes, it is." There was a brief awkward silence during which Jim drummed his fingers restlessly on the table.

"Look, I just wanna clear something up about last night. I don't have a green fetish. I promise. It's not like that. I'm not, you know, only attracted to green people or that I'm immediately attracted to anyone who's greenish. Just so you know." Jim looked down at his burger.

"That is understood." Spock nearly bit his lip. If what Jim said was true, then his chances were significantly lowered. That would be problematic. They finished the rest of their meal in silence. "If I were to properly read the journals I had prepared for this evening and receive my usual 6.21 hours of sleep, then you will need to leave within the next ten minutes and forty-four seconds." In truth, he did not want Jim to leave, ever, but the moment had become what would be termed "awkward" and he had been putting off reading those journals for weeks.

"Oh. Okay. Well, I'll go then." Jim stood and reached for Spock's fingers. The Vulcan's fingers buzzed with electricity. He gave a little smile, rubbing his thumb against the edge of his index finger. His breath caught in his throat. Jim's other hand found his shoulder, then he walked away. He stood at the door a moment, and pointed ears picked out the sound of the button being pressed to open the door. But there was no _whoosh_ of the door opening. "Capain's Authorization code nine five echo whiskey three."

A warm female voice filled the room. "I'm sorry, Captain's authorization code denied." Spock turned around.

"Override code sierra victor five nine two two."

"I'm sorry, Captain, your override code has been denied."

"Ugh, what the hell? I'll have to talk to Scotty about that. Medical override code kilo alpha six two seven three."

"Captain, not only is that not your own override code, but it is also denied."

Spock stood. "Authorization code three eight alpha whiskey five."

"Authorization code denied. Again."

"Computer, please explain," the Vulcan demanded.

"Your authorization codes have been denied, Lieutenant Commander Spock. The codes have been changed. A message containing your new codes will be sent at six thirty AM tomorrow."

"_Excuse me_?" Jim hissed. "What the fuck is going on?"

"You heard me, Captain."

"You're a fucking _computer_. You just sassed me. I'm not okay with that."

"Jim, I would not suggest attempting to argue with the computer. We will have Mr. Scott sort out the matter immediately." Spock flipped open his communicator. "Mr. Scott, would you do a full system analysis on the ship's computer system. My authorization codes and those of Captain Kirk are not functioning properly."

"Of course, Mr. Spock." He closed his communicator and sat at his desk with a padd.

"There. He will sort out the problem. I am going to begin my reading. I have an extra padd here. You are welcome to read as well until you are able to leave." He quickly immersed himself in his selected journals. The first was a stunningly creative approach to how interstellar warp speed space travel and worm holes relate to string theory and the eleventh dimension. He particularly liked the side the author took on the idea of time travel. It was surprisingly accurate for someone who did not know the details of the incident with Nero. By the time he had reached the halfway point, he was aware of the occasional chuckle that came from Jim, who was lounging on the bed with a padd.

He let out a loud laugh. "God, that's hilarious." Spock gave him a sharp look.

"Is your reading humorous?" he asked dryly.

"Yeah. Sorry. It's just 'Much Ado About Nothing'. Gets me every time. I'll try to shut up now." He checked his pad for the time. "Hey, if Scotty doesn't fix this whole thing in an hour, can I use your shower?"

"Of course," he answered calmly, but his insides were suddenly a crawling mess of nerves. He actually hoped the Mr. Scott did not come through that time. The idea of Jim in his shower…needless to say, Spock did not read more than a paragraph over the next hour. He was acutely aware of every sound Jim made, from the soft puff of his breathing to he light tap of his fingers when he scrolled down on his padd. The image of the Captain leaning against his door in only his underwear and the idea put into his mind by his older self, that of a long, lasting _physical_ relationship, kept leaping into his mind. The tips of his fingers were practically throbbing.

"Hey, I'm gonna hit the shower. Don't worry, I won't be more than twenty minutes." Jim stood, went into the bathroom, and started the water, closing the door behind him. All Spock could think about was the sound of falling water being interrupted by flesh. That, and the unbidden images of the aforementioned flesh, surrounded by steam, and…

He seated himself in the middle of the floor, trying to clear his mind, steady his breathing. It was entirely inappropriate to be having such thoughts about his commanding officer, especially when said commanding officer was only ten feet away. And naked. No. He was not naked. He was…still very naked. He stood and began pacing. He needed something else to focus on. Something that would take a lot of mental energy. But it was of no use. His mind kept flashing to forbidden images until the water shut off. There was silence for a moment.

"Hey, uh, Spock?"

"Yes?" he answered, trying to sound as normal and calm as usual.

"You got any towels in here?" Spock nearly choked. It was his usual routine to take a folded towel from the drawer that held his clothes into the bathroom with him before his shower. That way, he could put it in the laundry chute with his clothes in the bathroom and have a fresh one for the next day. However, he had forgotten about that since his mind nearly shut down when it came to the idea of Jim taking a shower.

"Oh, no, I do not. My towels are in here. I will bring you one." He took a towel from the drawer and shut his eyes tightly. He knew the layout of his room with enough familiarity that he could walk to the bathroom with his eyes shut. It was a preemptive countermeasure against any "accidental" peeking that might occur. "I am opening the door now. My eyes are very much closed," he said, pushing the button to open the door. He extended the towel towards the interior of the bathroom.

"Don't worry about. We're both men here. It's nothing you haven't seen before." He felt the weight of the towel lifted from his arm.

"In fact, I have not glimpsed any part of the male or female human anatomy that is ordinarily hidden by clothing. Furthermore, I do not wish to do so in the near future."

"That's what _you_ think. But you don't know how truly glorious it can be. Relax, you can open your eyes. I'm all covered." He opened his eyes, finding a damp-skinned, rather splendorous man before him.

"I think I am quite sure that I do not want to see your…"

"Manhood?" Jim supplied.

He gave a tiny grimace. "Yes. I will leave so that you may dress." He turned and went to sit on his bed, palms on his knees. But Jim followed him out.

"Okay, so this is going to be a little weird, but, well, out of habit, I kinda tossed my clothes down your laundry chute. So, could I maybe just borrow a pair of underwear?" Spock sat that much straighter.

"My clothing drawer is over there," he intoned, pointing at it. Jim grinned.

"Cool." He walked over, his back to Spock, who did his best not to stare at his well-defined musculature. He opened the drawer, pulling out a pair of briefs. Spock made a soft choking noise when the white towel dropped from its comfortable position about his hips, landing smartly on the floor. His mouth tried to find words, but all he could see was Jim's bottom. His rather perfect bottom, he noticed. But half a second later, it was covered. Jim bent down and picked up the towel, rubbing his head with it. He turned around, dropping the towel into a laundry chute. "Well, I knew I had a nice ass, but really, Spock, there's no need to gape," he teased. Spock closed his mouth, resuming a cold, indifferent expression.

"I was merely surprised at your sudden nudity. I trust it will not happen again."

He smirked. "Not unless you want it to." Spock greened, though not intentionally.

"Are you going to put on more clothing?" he asked. He both wanted and didn't want him to do so.

"Well, no, actually. This is how I sleep."

"Oh, yes, of course. Of course. I will prepare you a place to sleep." He took a brief look around his room, then began taking blankets and an extra pillow from one of his drawers. He laid everything out on the floor, and took a long look at Jim. It wouldn't do to make him sleep on the floor. After all, he was his Captain. "You may sleep in my bed."

"Oh. You don't want to cuddle? I know the little versions of us enjoyed it."

He raised his eyebrow. "No, I do not wish to cuddle with you."

"I was joking, Spocky. Although, if you want to, I'm a hardcore cuddler. And really, what's a little spooning between friends? Just ask Bones. We used to spoon all the time. Well, mostly when he was drunk. Well, one of us was always drunk. But, hey, compared to you, I'm always drunk. Yeah…I'm sorta rambling."

"What is this 'spooning'?" he asked, sitting with crossed legs on his makeshift floor-bed. Jim laughed.

"Wait, seriously?" He nodded. "You…okay, well, spooning is well, when two people lay next to each other, like, well, spoons. Sorta like…" He tried to demonstrate with his hands. "Like a hug, only one person is backwards and they're laying down."

"What is the purpose of such a gesture?"

"Well, you do it when you sleep. I guess because it's better than being cold and alone." He stared off into space for a moment. "That's sort of depressing, actually." Spock gave what might be considered a shrug and retrieved his sleeping clothes. As was expected of him, he dressed in the bathroom and laid down. While he actually wanted very much to "spoon" with Jim, it went without saying that it was an impossibility. He turned off the lights and did his best to fall asleep, even with Jim nearly next to him.

* * *

Spock awoke at his usual hour, which was unusually early for most. As per his usual routine, he took a towel from his drawer and went to take a shower. He let the water raining down on his skin wash away all of the feelings from the night before. His dreams had been…unusual, at best. Mostly, they had been filled with images of Jim. Not only did his perfect memory allow for vivid dreams, but he also had an extraordinary ability to imagine things. This led to some rather unsettling dreams that he rather preferred not to think about.

He realized too late that he had not been thinking clearly enough when he had first woken. With a soft intake of breath, he tiptoed back into his room and found his clothing, hopping back as softly as possible. He dressed in a flash, then went back into his room. Finding his padd again, he began to read.

"You know, while I usually would kill anyone who woke me up at this ungodly hour, I'll forgive you because your nearly-naked dash a minute ago. That needed to be videotaped."

"I apologize. I seemed to have forgotten my clothing in my post-slumber haze. I am deeply apologetic for any obscenity you may have witnessed."

"Hell, I'm cool with you running around in a towel. It's pretty much hilarious. And, really, I didn't think I'd ever see you shirtless. Even though, technically, I didn't. The lighting in here was pretty terrible."

"I am sorry if by attempting to prolong your sleep cycle, I made it more difficult for you to see me travel across my room in my towel," he drawled sarcastically.

"I accept your apology," he said gravely, sitting up. "However, next time, I expect you to leave the lights on…just kidding. You know, because if I wasn't, it would be sexual harassment, not to mention completely inappropriate."

"Of course," he muttered. "Although, if I did not view it as such, it would not be considered sexual harassment."

"Wait, what?"

"If you consider most of our interactions, they could be construed as sexual harassment. After all, you are almost constantly making some sort of sexual reference or inquiry of me. Technically, you have harassed me multiple times. Of course, as I do not take you at all seriously whenever you mention something even remotely sexual, I would not report you for your actions." Jim was silent. "As I said, you have no reason to fear. If I had been intent on your ruin or taken offense at your frequent blatant sexual displays, I would have reported you long ago. Truth be told, I have accepted it as your nature and I will not complain."

"Wow. I had no idea…I sort of thought you missed most of that. Thank you, I guess, for not saying anything. I mean, if I were actually hitting on you…well, I'm not. So you don't have to worry about that. I haven't meant to harass you."

"Neither have I," he whispered. He had not meant to say it at all, but somehow, his guilt had broken free of his lips and stumbled into the room like a large, unwelcome elephant.

"Um, what now? Did you just say what I think you said? Because you must have a crazy, skewed idea of sexual harassment if it is…"

"I- I must confess something, something I should have told you long ago. I am deeply, deeply apologetic. It was not at all my intent. I just-" The doorbell rang, nearly making him flinch. He ordered the door to open. Scotty stood there, triumphant.

"Look! Ah fixed it. Been working most o' tha night."

"Mr. Scott, the computer informed us that the situation would resolve itself in time for our shifts this morning."

"Well, that'll be why it started working right a few minutes ago. Sorry about that. Ah'll work it out today." Scotty looked from Spock to Jim, in Spock's bed wearing just his underwear, and gave a small smile. "Ah'll just leave you two alone, then." He winked and walked off, leaving Spock rather confused. Jim stood and started to go after him, making it as far as the hallway before dashing back inside and shutting the door behind him.

"Note to self: the best way to convince your Chief Engineer that you're not sleeping with your First Officer is not to run from his room in your underwear."

"He believes we are-that we have engaged in sexual relations?"

"Jeez, you make it sound so dirty. But yeah. And if Scotty isn't the biggest gossip I know, you can smack my ass and call me 'Sally'. Well, this is awkward."

"I would prefer not to slap your rear end, and I had previously been instructed to call you Jim. Do you still wish me to address you as such?"

"Yeah, Spock. It's an expression. But the more important thing is that by the time we get on the bridge, everyone will think that we're involved."

"I doubt that they will believe him."

"Are you kidding? Half of the normal bridge crew already think we're at least involved. Scotty'll just cement the idea in their minds." Spock stiffened.

"What do you mean that half of them think we are 'involved'?" he hissed. If Nyota had been spreading some sort of rumor…

"It's just…sometimes someone will make a comment or give me a look. It's happened several times from several people. I mean, I just brushed them off. I didn't want to bother you about it or anything. I mean, no one was really pushy about it."

"Who were these people?"

"Oh, a few ensigns, Sulu, a couple security officers, Bones once or twice. Captain Howell, actually. But that's all." Spock relaxed slightly. As long as Nyota was not telling people how he felt about Jim, he was fine.

"What do you propose we do, then, to correct the problem?"

"I don't know…a fight, maybe? Not like a little argument, we'd need a physical confrontation. Something that couldn't be seen as, you know, a 'lover's spat'. Maybe you could pick a fight over not being captain? Or we could pretend I tried something with Uhura, maybe? I don't know."

"Both of those ideas have a high probability of failure. I would suggest a public announcement."

"No, no, that'll just make them think we're trying to cover it up. I think the best thing we can do is to just accept what they think, then just 'break up'."

"Of course. I will defer to your relationship expertise." Spock held back the tide of emotions swirling within his gut. The last thing he wanted was to break up with Jim. But if it would make him happy, who was he to refuse?

* * *

**A/N: Well, guys, we're nearing the end. I'm thinking there's about two chapters left. Which is kinda depressing me a little. But hey! Soon, there will be love. Not sex, but love. Sorry about that... Btdubs, you guys all rock my socks off. Reading and favoriting and alerting and reviewing...I have a lot of love for you.  
**


	14. Chapter 14: They Made a Statue of Us

**This chapter's fricking long...and a bit slashy. Which means it's beautiful. Go crazy, you wonderful fools!**

* * *

As long as he followed the plan, he thought, Jim would be happy. The plan was surprisingly simple. According to his predictions, the plan was solid. It would work. The issue was, he didn't want it to work. He was fine with the people working with believing that he and Jim were in a relationship. In fact, he had read several articles on the power of suggestion that said that such a thing could expedite the process. But pretending to break up would do nothing for them.

They stood in the turbolift quietly. "So, remember to wait for the signal."

"Yes, I am well versed in your plan. My memory has preserved your instructions perfectly."

"Okay, well, good." The door slid open. "_Showtime_." They stepped out of the lift together. Jim gave him a pat on the back, but his hand slid a bit lower, to the base of his spine. Spock nearly shivered. He leaned over to whisper in his ear, "So, I'm supposed to be saying something sexy right now. Pretend I said something hot about your ears." He felt lips pressed against the very tip of his ear, sending a tremor down his spine. Without a sound, he went to his seat. Nyota looked at him, grinning like a fool. A second later, she adopted a very professional expression and walked over, leaning down to look at his console.

"Don't think I didn't see that. When were you going to tell me that you and Kirk were an item? Huh? Don't think you can keep secrets from me," she teased, giving him a little smirk.

"I did not want to tell you about our involvement until it became official. Which it has."

"Oh really? How official are we, _Mister_?"

"Quite," he answered simply. Of course, she was not satisfied.

"And what does that mean? I expect you kissed for real? Did you sleep with him?" He stiffened abruptly.

"That is not of your concern." He was not sure of exactly what Kirk wanted him to pretend. He would prefer to be as vague as possible.

"Oh my god! You definitely did!" She grinned. "So, was he as great as he thinks he is? You're gonna have to give me the details, you know."

He said what he imagined he would say if such a situation were real. "I will not divulge such information here. I will only say that he has underestimated himself. Now, please, I need to focus on my work."

She giggled quietly. "Of course. Tell me more later." She walked back to her own console, giving him a little smile. It was a conversation he was dreading. He turned back to his monitor and began working. He let a small part of his mind focus on Jim, to await the signal. They had planned on him giving it late in the afternoon. He did his best to not become too distracted in that time.

* * *

The time for the signal came and went. He waited, barely completing anything, for Jim to loudly flirt with an ensign. But it never happened. He sensed several eligible ensigns come up near the Captain's chair. But there was no tell-tale proposition. Their shift ended, the next part of the plan incomplete. When his replacement took his place, he waited patiently next to Jim's chair for a minute until his replacement came. The entered the turbolift quietly, professionally, if not for Jim's palm on the small of his back.

"I had thought that you were implementing your plan today. On the bridge. _Today_."

"Yeah, well, I was going to, but once I sorta got a feel for the room, I knew that it wouldn't work. We're going to have to draw this out a little longer. I think we're going to have to be more open about this whole thing so that people can get a little more used to the idea. That way, when we break up, we won't seem fake or like drama whores." Spock did not understand Jim's statement for the most part, but he trusted that he knew what he was talking about.

"I expect you have a new plan?"

"Naturally. But it's a little more go-with-the-flow than the other plan. I mean, _the signal_ will still be the same, but we're going to have to do more leading up to it. So, just play along with it." He grinned. "Dinner? Publicly, of course."

"Of course." They went to the Officer's Mess for dinner, sitting across from each other as they ate. Jim entwined their fingers on the table. It made Spock nervous at first, like they were doing something wrong, because, well, they were, but it still felt sort of pleasant, as it should. It served to remind him that he really need to tell Jim about the kiss. Jim kept leaning forward towards him to say things. It was normal conversation, held in hushed tones, but to foreign eyes, it would look as if they were in a deep, intimate conversation.

"So, I think we need to go to game night tonight. Participate in something with other people, flaunt our little thing. Generally just be sorta couple-y. I won't make you kiss me, though. Don't worry."

"Even if we were in an actual relationship, I would not kiss you in the human way. Hat is not how Vulcans operate. I think I may have seen my mother and father kiss on the mouth a total of three times in my childhood. It is simply not something I understand, nor enjoyed with Nyota."

"Then how do Vulcans kiss? I mean, I know you must have sex, and you seem like a race that believes in foreplay."

"It is complicated. It involves our touch telepathy."

"Then can Vulcans not kiss humans?"

"We may, if we so choose. But I am not inclined to engage in such a thing."

"Maybe you could show me this 'Vulcan kiss' thing. You know, in case I meet any Vulcan hotties."

"That will be determined at a later date."

"Sweet. So, the recreation room…I think we should play something other than chess. We'll look to private if we play chess. A group game will give people the opportunity to see us in a social setting." Spock agreed and tried not to think too much about the way Jim's fingers were rubbing his own. If they were to do such a thing in front of Vulcans, it would be considered an intensely lewd action. That didn't make it feel any less perfect.

* * *

The recreation room was filled with the usual suspects. Scotty, Chekov, Sulu, Bones, Uhura, Chapel, Giotto and Rand sat around the poker table. When the two men entered, everyone looked up at them, wearing some form of amusement on their faces.

"So, it looks like you two finally left your rooms. Wanna join the game?"Sulu asked. There was a bottle of vodka on the table and most of them had some sort of glass. It appeared that Chekov had brought the bottle, from the way he was savoring his glass and trying to educate them all on how to "properly enjoy a good vodka".

"Of course. Would I be Jim Kirk if I said no to a poker game? Hell no." He pulled over a couple chairs and they sat down.

Scotty dealt them their cards. They played a few hands, the entire table drinking casually. Jim kept making subtle references to their supposed private lives. Most of them seemed to believe the whole ruse, but McCoy kept giving Spock strange looks. It was as if he could not comprehend the idea of the two of them together.

"So, I'm thinking we play some strip poker," Jim announces. Uhura, Bones, and Giotto roll their eyes and offer expressions of annoyance. "Come on! Spock's not all that great at poker and I want you all to see just what you're missing. He's got a pretty hot body that I've got to rub in your faces. Figuratively. Because your faces aren't going anywhere near him."

"Wow. You managed to be immature, possessive, insulting, _and_ horny in the same breath. I am ceaselessly amazed at how inappropriate you can be without even trying," Nyota drawled, trying and failing to be unamused.

"I love you too, Nyota. But what do you say? A little nudity to liven up the party?" Spock coughed.

"I would like to request that we do not play a game that would result in Jim's nudity. As he is an even worse poker player than I, he will be disrobed much sooner, considering that his aim is probably to become nude in the first place. I would prefer that his body not be shared with all of you. For the sake of decency." Jim gave him a little smile and took his hand.

"Oh, you're so cute when you're possessive. But, I'll back down if you say so."

"I do. Now, if you would excuse me, I need to use the restroom." Spock left the room, hoping for a minute alone. The pressures of social interaction, of the painful façade of a relationship they'd been impersonating, had been weighing down on him since that morning on the bridge. He stood in the hallway, simply breathing, for a moment when the door opened. Dr. McCoy came out. They stared at each other for a moment.

"When the hell did you two happen?" he asked levelly, as if trying to contain himself. He knew that if there was anyone he could tell, for some reason, it was him. That, and he felt cheap lying to him. If anyone, as Jim's best friend, he deserved the truth.

"Forgive me. It is a farce. Through an unfortunate set of circumstances, Mr. Scott came to the idea that Jim and I had engaged in intimate relations. Jim thought that the best way to remedy the situation was to pretend that we are in a relationship until such a time that we can 'break up'."

He considered this a moment or two. "Jim will never stop confusin' me. Just…don't touch him too much. It's just not right, since you mean it."

"In your view of things, then, while we are participating in our little charade, I am not allowed to touch him, but he may touch me? It seems like a paradox."

"Fine. You can touch him. Just…don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"A curious phrase. But it seems as if that would cover a whole manner of transgressions, including 'spooning', according to Jim." McCoy choked.

"He told you about that?" One of his eyebrows was stretching to reach his hairline. As always, the doctor was a little frightening in his perpetual state of anger and annoyance.

"Yes. Last night."

"What exactly did he tell you about that?"

"Only that when one or both of your were inebriated, it might result in such a thing. I did not do so with him, if you were wondering. He offered, but I declined."

"He did?"

"Yes. He mentioned that he was lonely. It was a rather complicated night, to say the least. I think he is unaware of the effect he has on me."

He blinked hard, as if trying to clear his vision. "Seems like it. Look, I'm goin' back to my quarters. Go ahead and…whatever. I need a real drink." He turned and walked down the hall, shaking his head. Spock raised an eyebrow at his predictably unpredictable behavior, and went back into the room. He sat beside his Captain, his friend, and pretended what he wished he could be allowed to feel. They played hand after hand until Spock had all but lost track of time. It was nearing what he estimated to be ten in the evening when Nyota did something…unexpected.

"So, I think I can speak for everyone when I say that it took you two long enough. I mean, you've been dancing around this awkward sexual tension for weeks. It's been sorta nauseating. How did it finally happen?"

Kirk shrugged. "Oh, well, we've been seeing each other in secret-"

"Not that secret," Sulu muttered.

He glared. "_In secret_, and last night, we decided that it would be okay to let you all know. That, and Scotty found out this morning."

"Ah can't say Ah was surprised. Oh, that little glitch! Ah found a ghost program in the ship's mainframe. Was easy enough ta sort out once Ah found it."

"Well, thanks for that. The damn ship locked me Spock's room. Not that I really minded."

"Well, thank god," Chapel sighed. "Would it be too much to ask for a little kiss?"

"You see, we want to keep that aspect of our relationship private. It's sort of a personal thing…"

"Please? You're two attractive men and I haven't been laid in a couple of months. I'm living my personal life through other people. Help a girl out, here," Chapel said. She gave a little pout, pale blue eyes wide. Kirk shook his head.

Nyota rolled her eyes. "At least do a Vulcan kiss so I can feel somewhat satisfied about you two." Spock glared at her (in his own little Vulcan way).

"I maintain the same objection. It is not appropriate to do such a thing in company."

"Oh, come on. You're only half Vulcan and it's not like you haven't done it before. Please? It's just your fingers." Jim looked at him sharply. For all of his quirks, he was nothing if not intelligent. With a glance at Nyota, Jim slowly lifted his fingers as Spock watched. It was almost as if time had slowed down, prolonging his moment of internal agony. Jim pressed two fingers to his own and Spock stood, nearly jumping up from his chair in an embarrassingly un-Vulcan manner. He didn't even wait to look at the people in the room before bolting. He nearly ran down the hallway, ignoring the occasional officer who saluted him. Once in his room, he sat on his bed, feeling the torment, the guilt, the anguish, welling inside of him. He choked and coughed on the emotions lodged in his throat. The buzzer on his door sounded in the strangely quiet space.

"Spock, just open the door. You know I can open it myself if I need to." He did not respond. A deep gulp of oxygen filled his lungs as he tried to compose himself. The door opened. Jim stepped inside hesitantly and leaned against the door frame. "So when were you going to tell me that we've been making out for the past few weeks? Cause that's kinda something you tell people."

He let out his breath, hoping it didn't look like a shudder. "It was not my intent to molest you. I have made a very large mistake. It was a miscalculation on my part."

"What, Spock? Why did you lie to me?"

"I was afraid," he said simply. "I was afraid of what you might think of me, if I had told you the truth. I thought that if I told you that my younger counterpart kissed yours, you would think that I…that I loved you. With that logic, I told you that it was a gesture of friendship. I figured that if I made it to be nothing, it would mean nothing." Jim stared at him as if he was solving a formula. "I am sorry to have misled you thus far. I was merely trying to hold onto our friendship." Jim slid down the door frame into a sitting position, holding his head in his hands.

"Okay. Just…Just give me a minute. To think." Spock took several deep breaths. There was nothing he could do; the situation was out of his hands. "Alright. So, let me get this straight: you lied because you thought I wouldn't talk to you if I found out that the little you liked the little me?"

"Something to that effect, yes."

"So, that whole thing kinda failed. You know, I'm not stupid or blind or anything. It was pretty obvious that Little Spock had a crush on me. It was cute. Kids do that. It's no big deal."

"Maybe not to a human," he whispered, then more loudly, "McCoy found out, and I told Nyota. I felt guilty; I could not keep it a secret. I apologize."

"It's fine, I guess. Just a little weird." He brightened, smiling, and stood. "Well! This shouldn't affect our plan. They'll just think you were embarrassed at us kissing in front of everyone. We're still on."

"You wish to continue our plan?"

"Well, yeah. I'm gonna go, though. I'm pretty tired. We'll talk in the morning."

"Of course. I would not wish to interfere with your normal sleep patterns."

Kirk took a few steps forward, crossing the room, and ended up in front of the Vulcan. "Just one last thing." He gave a little smirk and leaned forward. "It's only fair, really. If you think about it." He closed in, pressing their lips together for an instant. Just as suddenly, he was gone. Spock stood there, feeling strangely empty. He had the strangest urge to press his fingers to his lips. _Jim had just kissed him_. He thought of what the man said. It was true; it was only fair, to have his personal space breached by a romantic affront without warning, considering all that he had done. But the difference was, he actually wanted it. For the first time since he had learned of the human version of the kiss, he actually wanted to truly experience it. As it was, he was taken too much by surprise to even fully register all that had happened. His mind had been too chaotic for him to truly recall the feel of Jim's lips.

He removed his outer clothing and laid on his bed. His mind was still in a daze. Mental processing functions were sluggish at best. Jim's face kept appearing in his mind. He was almost frighteningly beautiful. Behind closed lids, his eyes bore into him. There was no way he'd be able to survive a pretend relationship with him. Not while he wished it was real.

* * *

Spock was woken by a voice located approximately three inches from his face. He opened his eyes to find smiling blue irises staring deep into his own. It was not unlike his dream.

"Yes, Jim? I see you have both utilized your Captain's Override code and your alarm clock. Is there a specific reason for your early morning visit?"

"Goddamn," Jim said, pulling away. "Only you can speak with proper grammar when you first wake up." He was sitting on the bed, his side touching Spock's blanketed hip.

"I find correct grammar to be necessary at all times. Your purpose?"

"Oh, I just needed to get you to come to my room so that when Bones, Scotty, and Chekov come by this morning to alert me of a virus in the computer system (since I turned off my communicator), they will find us in bed. Needless to say, the virus is of my doing, but my hacking skills were getting a little rusty."

"I see. Then we should leave my quarters immediately." He pulled on the clothes he'd discarded earlier and followed next door. Once inside, Jim began taking off his clothes. It was an appalling, engrossing sight, and rather unexpected. When he was down to his underwear, he stood with his hands on his hips and a waiting expression on his face.

"Come on. No one would ever believe you would be in bed with me in that much clothing. At least take off your shirt." Spock did so obediently, and even removed his undershirt and pants, feeling rather uncomfortable. "Now lets get sexy." Spock raised his eyebrow and took a step back. "Relax, I'm kidding. Just get in bed. I'll let you sleep, even." Once again, Spock followed his command while Jim moved their clothes around on the floor. He visualized the space like an artist, moving a boot there or pants here.

"May I ask what you are doing?"

"Just setting the scene. Gotta make it look like a sex tornado blew through this joint. Because, well, I _am_ a sex tornado." He hopped in bed, ordering the lights off and pulling the covers over them. They laid on their backs, Spock stiffly and Kirk comfortably, for several minutes before Kirk blurted, "You want a Raisinet?" He pulled out a container of brown morsels and popped one into his mouth.

"Do they contain chocolate?"

He smiled. "No, no, just carob." He held one out with an innocent smile. The Vulcan took it and placed it delicately on his tongue. The sweet, foreign taste tantalized his taste buds. He ate quite a few, laying there in bed with Jim. He attributed the buzzing in first his digits, then his limbs to his proximity to the object of his infatuation. "You know what? I lied. I woke you up at midnight. I couldn't sleep, so I thought a sleepover would be fun."

"I do not mind."

"Oh, and I also may have lied about the carob." Spock sat up abruptly. "Yeah, it was really chocolate. I looked up some stuff about Vulcans. Found out why you really left the other night. It made me feel a little bit better. I also had a pretty interesting conversation with Bones last night. Apparently you told him about us."

"Yes, well, he mistrusts me because of how I lied to you about the kiss."

"Oh? You want another Raisinet?"

He glared. "No, Jim, I do not want another. You know what will happen."

"Well, by my count, you've already had a good thirty of these things. That's more than enough to get you tipsy. Way more than enough. So you should probably just relax about it." He popped one into his mouth lazily. "You know, I think you really just need to loosen up."

"That would be inadvisable. Our shift begins in nearly eight hours."

"No one will mind if we're a little late. They're so happy we're knocking boots, they couldn't care less."

"But we are not having sex! We will never do so. This farce is causing me stress!" Spock blurted, covering his mouth with a hand. "I apologize. I am less in control of my tongue than I thought."

"It's okay. I'm a little stressed too, I guess. It's just, we're best friends. And this whole thing is a little weird. I'd sure as hell never pretend to be screwing Bones-"

"Really? Why is it that whenever you talk of this imaginary thing between us, you assume that it is an entirely physical relationship? Do you think that I would allow myself to be in such a relationship with anyone, even you? You can only see the idea of sleeping with me, when, in fact, if this were real, I would not even kiss you on the mouth until at the least the relationship had progressed for several weeks." He struggled to restrain himself from going forward, since he had already said too much. His tongue had betrayed him; it had let loose a stream of his thoughts that should never have been voiced.

Jim's expression turned serious. "Oh. I never…It's just...I can't really understand more than sex. I don't know how to even pretend to be in a relationship based on something else." He looked at him for a moment. "I'm sorry. I really didn't think."

Spock stared at his hands in his lap for a little while. "I am not offended. I think your chocolate has loosened my grip on my emotions. It has made me a fool."

"I'm the real fool. This plan is a pretty horrible idea. Not only has it screwed with our friendship, but I don't want your chances with that girl you like to be ruined."

"You have made several assumptions. Most of them are false. For example, given the circumstances, your plan was a very good one. Also, our friendship has not been too adversely affected. That, and I have not become enamored with a female."

Jim sat up and narrowed his eyes. "Wait. You don't like women?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Really? So who do you like, then?"

"I was not inclined to tell you before, and I will not now." Jim took a Raisinet and placed it against his lips. Without hesitating, he ate it, then greened a little at his actions.

"Feeding me more of these inebriating candies will not encourage me to tell you."

"Oh yeah? We'll see about that." He threw another chocolate bit at him, and Spock instinctively caught it in his mouth. Another one followed, and was also caught and eaten. He frowned at his automatic response. "Oh, this is going to be fun." Spock glared, but his natural instincts would not allow him to miss the precisely thrown Raisinets. The only redeeming aspect of the situation was that Jim was laughing. And by that point, he was partially apathetic to the idea of consuming more chocolate, perhaps because of what he had already eaten. Pretty soon, the container was empty.

"I will not dignify what you have done with a response."

"You just did."

"You are unloved," he lied, rather illogically.

Jim laughed. "You're cute when you're pissed off, you know that?" The Vulcan greened again. "Cuter when you blush." He leaned down to stick his head beneath the bed and drew out a colorful box. He withdrew the lid, revealing sections, some with chocolate treats, some empty. "You're eating some of these. Because I'm going to see you hammered."

"I will not willingly indulge in your curiosity. Inebriation this close to our shifts would be unwise."

"That's too bad, you know. I mean, what if your commanding officer were to find out? Oh, wait…that's me! And I sure as hell don't mind. Eat up!" Spock inspected the sugary treats.

"Which one would you recommend?" he asked, giving in but still letting his annoyance creep into his voice.

"Oh, well, I already ate all the caramels. So you've got coconut, strawberry, lemon, cherry, Cardassiun sunfruit, mocha, and hazlenut. Try the hazlenut. It's like a delicious, chocolatey mouthgasm."

He raised an eyebrow, asking, "And what is a 'mouthgasm'?"

"An orgasm in your mouth." He chuckled. "Well, actually, that's maybe not the best way to describe that…it's as if your mouth is having an orgasm. Just eat it."

"I do not appreciate your sexual reference, but I will sample it." He took the chocolate Jim offered him and took a small bite. It was one of the most delicious things he'd tasted in his entire life. True, he didn't generally eat things for their taste, but it beat, by far, anything he could ever remember eating. "That is quite good."

"Yeah? You're going to have to get to know my good friend, Nutella, one of these days. And it's going to be spectacular. Try a coconut." By the time he had tasted five candies, the buzzing beneath his skin had given way to a full-blown spinning in his head. His nerves were flaring. He was definitely well past inebriation.

"Jim, please, do not ask me to consume any more. My head is…not right." Jim reached beneath the bed again and pulled out a half-empty bottle of vodka. He downed several large gulps, not even blinking, then looked straight at him. When it came to drinking, Scotty and Chekov had nothing on him.

"Just trying to get on the same page." He reached beneath his pillow and pulled out a long straw, from which he began drinking his beverage. "You know what? I think you should do something."

"And what would that be?"

"I think you should tell me who you're in love with."

"That is most definitely not going to happen." He gave a little hiccup. "I am like a vault. You will never be privy to that information."

He laughed. "Come on. I'll tell you who I like. Well, after you tell me who you like, of course. God, I sound like a schoolgirl."

"You would have to tell me first. That is how I operate." Truth be told, he did not know how he operated in such situations, but that method seemed safer.

He pouted. "Please?" He took a sip from his straw in a manner that could only be described as suggestive. Spock's lip trembled and his hands began to shake.

"No. I will not change my decision."

"Fine. I'm gonna have to get my seduction on. You've been warned." He put his bottle down and leaned forward, the pout-lip working overtime. "I can be very persuasive when I need to be." Their faces were inches apart. Jim's bright blue eyes were half-lidded and he seemed to be focusing pretty intently on Spock's lips. He leaned a little bit more forward, and Spock edged back.

"No. I will not tell you and that is my final answer. No amount of…persuasion will change that."

"Fine." Jim sat as he was before. "But I'm never gonna tell you who I have a crush on. And trust me, it's juicy."

"I do not care. Not in the slightest," the Vulcan lied.

"Whatever. By the way, I probably should have told you this, but you know how you were all concerned that the finger-thing was romantic? Well, it's generally pretty romantic to humans, too. I was just sorta following your lead. I mean, it wasn't as crazy as kissing or anything, but it's still a couple thing. Just thought you should probably know."

"Really? Then I apologize two-fold."

"No need. Hell, I kissed you even." He shrugged. "It's not like kissing even means anything, anyway. Hell, I kiss everyone."

"Do you really? You must have a terrible personal life. Considering your promiscuity and the way you have devalued anything vaguely romantic, you might need therapy before participating in a fulfilling intimate relationship." Jim stared at him, stunned. "What?"

"That is the most honest, compassionate thing anyone has ever said to me." He looked down at his hands in shock. Spock pretended he had not said that.

"I have one question for you: when are McCoy, Mr. Scott, and Mr. Chekov going to be arriving?"

"I don't know, actually. Probably pretty soon. We better look involved."

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"Well, like this," he said, then leaned forward, grabbing Spock's head from behind. He gave a little smile before kissing him. Spock was surprised, to say the least. He pulled back automatically.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, hoping he sounded much more in control of himself than he actually was.

He whispered, "Something we've both wanted to do for a long time." Spock blanched. "Oh, don't look so shocked. Bones told me everything last night. I know you like me. And I like you. So, yeah, I'm trying to kiss you. And I got you drunk so you wouldn't be such a tight-ass about it. Do you have a problem with that?" Spock stared at him for a minute. It couldn't be true. He was having a drunken hallucination. That was the only possibility. And, if that be the case, why not seize the moment? He pushed their mouths together hungrily. His limited knowledge of kissing (all from Nyota) allowed him to be less awkward than he should have been, but he couldn't compare to Jim's apparent mastery of the craft. His lips were cool, soft and supple against his own. It felt so right, for some reason. He had never imagined that touching lips with someone could actually feel good, let alone like _this_.

Jim started sucking on his lower lip and he melted, right there. Jim was going to kill him, that much had been obvious a long time ago, but as long as he did it like this, he wouldn't mind. Fingers stroked his one, and his tingling nerves were set on fire. Then his tongue came into play, and any sort of self-control was complete dissolved. He pushed Jim back onto the bed, using his superior strength. Jim groaned beneath him. A burning warmth blossomed in the pit of his stomach, a deep hunger he'd never felt before. He _needed_ Jim at that moment. His cool hands slid against the skin of his sides, tracing his lower ribs.

He pulled away. "I always knew you'd be pretty hot like this, but I must say, you've set a new record for sexy." He leaned down and licked the tender skin of his neck, earning a sigh.

"Do not speak," he breathed lowly. "It is not necessary." He kissed his jaw line, the hollow of his throat, trying to taste his skin. Jim seemed to be wholly in favor of the idea. His roaming hands skimmed his back, stopping low, just above the waistband of his boxers.

"Why have we not done this sooner? Because this is something we need to be doing all the time. _All_ the time."

"As always, I am in agreement." He started kissing down his chest. Jim pulled his face up to his own and met his mouth in a heated, sloppy kiss. He felt hands on his backside, pulling him closer. One cool hand slid around to his front, near his waistband. A few fingers dipped below and he gasped into Jim's mouth. No one, including himself, had ever come close to touching himself there. He pushed back against Jim's mouth, groaning, and poured every emotion he could find into the kiss. One of Jim's hands cupped the side of his face, rubbing his cheekbone. He was just placing a hand on Jim's chest when-

"Hey, Jim- Whoa! Jesus...that's...Spock..." They pulled away from each other, panting, and stared at McCoy, Scott, and Chekov. McCoy was pale, his eyes wide. "Brain bleach. Now." He spun on his heels and disappeared out of the room. Spock rolled off of Jim, who pulled his hand from his underwear.

"Yes, Scotty? May we help you? We're a little busy right now."

The Scotsman grinned. "Ah kin see that, Captain. Ah'll try to be hasty. We just have a _little_ problem-"

Jim rolled his eyes. "The virus is in the Alpha quadrant of the mainframe, just find the subroutine in the archived programs."

"Wait, how did you-" He looked dumbfounded.

"Scotty, much as I would like to talk about this, I've got some business I need to attend to…"

"Oh, right. We'll just be going, then." Scotty offered a sheepish smile and tugged a gawking Chekov from the room. When the door closed, Jim turned to Spock with a sexy smirk.

"So, where were we?"

"I believe we were in the process of 'getting it on'."

"Well, by all means, let's get back to that…" Spock kissed him hard and pulled him closer. His mind faded into a single thing: _Jim_.

* * *

**A/N: So, loyal readers and trekkers, our little adventure is nearing its close. We have only a chapter and an epilogue left, I am sorry to say. I have grown very fond of you all. I promise you love and a Christmas-themed oneshot to celebrate the deep and enduring love I feel for you all. Feel free to spread the love, which can be done in a variety of ways, including FedExed cookies and even more yummy reviews...**


	15. Chapter 15: More Than Alive

By the time Jim and Spock made it to their shift, it was almost ten o'clock. The lift door opened to a chorus of catcalls and wolf whistles. Jim leaned over to whisper in Spock's ear.

"And this what humans call the Walk of Shame. Really, they're just jealous we got laid and they didn't." He gave him a peck on the cheek and slapped his backside. "Now get to work, you little minx." He gave a smirk that Spock quickly identified as his 'cat-in-the-cream' smirk. He had come to know it pretty well in the past few hours. Trying to shrug off all manner of pleasurable images, Spock went to his seat and got to work immediately. His mind flashed back to images of the morning. While he had not anticipated having any sort of sexual appetite, he had been proven entirely wrong. It had frightened him at first, that he could want such things, but Jim had been more than persuasive when he eased his uncertainty.

An instant message appeared on his console from Nyota. _Looks like someone had some fun last night. And this morning. ;) _He stared at the screen for a moment, then stood and walked over to her.

"Lieutenant Uhura, how is your progress on the fourteen Klingon dialects?" he asked loudly. He leaned down next to her. "We have a physical relationship. Do not be surprised if we indulge in it." He walked back to his seat, a little prouder than he would have liked to admit. The idea of having gotten to be close to Jim had not lost its merit. In fact, he was still in awe that he had been allowed to be intimate with him. It was as if he had been given a miraculous gift that he would never deserve.

McCoy stopped by later, after lunch, to bring in an ensign for a routine physical. He look one look at Jim and laughed. "What's the matter, Jim? You're sure sittin' kinda funny."

Jim looked exceptionally above it all. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm just gonna hang around up here for a while. It amuses me to see you squirm."

"I don't require your presence on the bridge, _Doctor_. Why don't you run along and play with your hypos?" His glare was very clear in meaning. "Or I just might find a need to report the seventeen bottles of Saurian nrady you keep beneath your desk. You know, drinking on the job is frowned upon by the higher ups."

"Oh, grow up. You're just pissy because I called you out on having buttsex with the hobgoblin. I would tell you to not get your panties in a bunch, but, well…" Spock looked over at him sharply.

"Doctor McCoy, I believe the Captain has made himself quite clear. Not to mention that the aspersions you have cast on our personal lives are completely inappropriate in a work setting." The doctor grumbled, but left the bridge. Jim snickered and wore a smile for the rest of their shift.

* * *

When Beta shift filed in, Spock told Jim that he'd meet up with him later. He almost reconsidered when he saw his face fall, but he felt he needed to talk to Nyota. She took him to her quarters, and gestured for him to sit across from her.

"Nyota, I wish to clear something up. You see, the night before last, there was a malfunction within the ship's computer system. It caused the doors to my quarters to be unable to be opened, which, coincidentally, happened while Jim was in the room. When Mr. Scott came by in the morning when he believed he had fixed it, he saw that Jim was wearing naught but his underwear and in my bed, he came to an erroneous conclusion: that we had engaged in some sort of sexual activity. Jim knew that there was no possible way to convince the crew of the truth, so he suggested that we pretend that it was the truth, then stage the termination of our relationship.

"When you mentioned the Vulcan kiss last night, I had not informed him of what we were doing. Fortunately, he forgave me quite quickly. However, he came to me in the night and suggested that I accompany him to his room, where several crew members would find us and confirm their idea about our relationship. Jim managed to trick me into consuming a fairly large amount of chocolate, which, of course, resulted in my inebriation. He took advantage of this fact, and of knowledge he gained from a conversation with Doctor McCoy pertaining to my infatuation with him, and we may have had sexual relations. Multiple times, in several locations within his quarters." Nyota began to laugh. Spock raised an eyebrow at her behavior, but her laughter did not subside for several moments.

"So that's how it finally happened, huh? Well, I have a confession to make. The little glitch with your doors was us. Well, me, Scotty, Chekov, Sulu, and, don't ask him to admit to it, Leonard. We thought that the best way to speed things up between you two was to force you to sleep together. I'm kinda sad it didn't work."

"You and several other crew members conspired to ignite a romantic relationship between myself and the Captain?"

"Well, yeah. You two have liked each other since forever. Actually, Jim asked me about you a couple times. He made me promise not to tell you, so I couldn't tell you that he liked you. Which really sucked. And then I dragged Len into it, which is a lot harder than it sounds. He wasn't exactly fond of the idea, since he likes pretending to hate you, but Kirk's his best friend. Actually, he didn't believe me when I told him that you liked him. Or at least he pretended not to. But, yeah, it was us. Sorry about that, but it took you long enough to realize your were in love with him. Who knows how long it would take to make you admit it."

"In fact, I was planning to inform him sometime soon, once I divulged whether or not he had similar feelings. The version of myself from another universe told me that we were in a long term relationship in his universe. He seemed to think it was meant to be."

"I already knew that, Spock. Even Little Spock and Jimmy knew it. For some reason you and Kirk have just been idiots about it. You know as well as I do that you're-"

"_T'hy'la_. I have…come to a similar conclusion. Jim and I have things to discuss on the matter. As you are well aware, Jim has never been especially fond of monogamy or of prolonged romantic relationships."

"You two _need to talk_, don't you?"

"Yes. We…did not have much time for talking in the hours before shift."

"You know, I still think it's a little surprising that you actually slept with him."

"As do I. In a way. For some reason, with him, it felt entirely natural." He stared at his hands for a moment. "Forgive me, but I should go speak with him."

"Alright, Spock. Go talk to your Lover Boy." She kissed him on the cheek and he left, finding Jim in his room. It was strange to be back in his room and see the various surfaces they had made love on.

"Jim?" The blond grinned at him and settled a dizzying kiss on his lips. "I think we need to discuss our relationship."

"No, we don't."

"Excuse me, there are issues we must-"

"Relax, Spock. There's nothing to worry about. I know you're a Vulcan. I know you only do the whole 'forever' thing. I talked to the old version of you. I just want to let you know, I'm fine with it. I'm ready to be with you for, well, as long as we both live. Besides, pon farr sounds wonderful. I'm pretty excited, actually. For the crazy Vulcan sex _and_ being with you forever. So I don't think there's really anything to talk about."

"I believe you are correct, as usual."

"Now, Spock, you can't just agree with everything I say. I didn't make you my First Officer to agree with me all the time. I did it because I know you'll keep me honest, on my toes, and all that. Well, and you're smokin', but that wasn't exactly what I wrote down when I sent Starfleet a request for your services."

"You requested me? I was never informed."

"Yeah, Pike said he wasn't going to tell you that I wanted you because you'd just freak out and say no. He said he'd ease you into the idea."

"He did no such thing. He had the other admirals give to me a hefty number of awards so that no student would approach me and I was further alienated by my fellow instructors. It was my older self who suggested that I join you." He paused for a moment to remember the couple of weeks he spent at the Academy after the Nero incident. "Of course, I did notice that Admiral Pike left a file with your crew list open on his desk, and he may have mentioned that Uhura was on the ship. It is also possible that he was responsible for the application form that found its way beneath my door at the Academy. I suppose that could be considered 'easing me into the idea'."

"Pike's cool like that. He knows what to do to make someone chose the path that's best for them. He helped me out a lot when I was younger. He helped me become what I am today." They stood in silence, thinking. Then Jim grinned. "Okay, so, I know it's a little late notice and all that, but we'll be nearing New Vulcan and I have permission from Starfleet to stop there for no longer than twelve hours for a brief shore leave. You can see the other you and your father." Spock was happy, then realized that he'd have to introduce Jim to his father as his…there was no good way to say it. He knew, from the feeling in his gut and everything that had occurred with the two alternate versions of himself, that they were meant to be. T'hy'la, without a doubt. But he was not sure if he should tell his father so much. After all, the last time he had seen them, he had been in the process of strangling the man. Granted, he was under extreme emotional stress, but still.

"How would you like me to introduce you to my father?" He thought Jim might like having input.

His tone was light, but he could tell that something inside of him had hardened at the question. "Oh, well, whatever you like. Your friend, your bestie, your main squeeze, your lover, your life partner, your soulmate. Whatever. It's up to you." Spock frowned nearly imperceptibly. He was going to have to tell his father the truth. There was no way to get around it without either letting Jim down or lying.

"We Vulcans have a word, _t'hy'la_. It has a triple meaning of friend, brother, and lover. It has the connotation of the Standard word, 'soulmate', in some instances. I trust this will suffice."

Jim was quiet for a long moment. "Thank you. That is…The…I just…" He leaned forward and kissed Spock lightly, tenderly, and held onto his fingers tightly. He pulled away, their fingers still joined, and whispered, "I really don't deserve you. But I love you." Spock smiled, genuinely smiled, and let out what might be described as a chuckle.

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard anyone say. You really are quite amusing. The idea that you might not deserve me is…quite humorous." Jim smiled and pulled him backwards to the bed.

* * *

The next morning, Jim and Spock actually managed to make their shift on time. And sleep, if only because they were exhausted from the day and night before. Jim made it to the bridge first, as Spock, who insisted that they take separate showers, showered second. When Spock exited the turbolift, He saw Jim focusing on a PADD with a young female yeoman. He turned around, and, seeing Spock, groaned and stretched.

"Something wrong?" the Vulcan asked, coming up behind the chair.

"Oh, a kink in my back." The ensign, much to Spock's chagrin, began rubbing the captain's back. "That's it. A little higher please." Spock raised an eyebrow. "Push, push harder. Dig it in there Mr. Sp-" His voice stopped abruptly when Spock walked forward. "Thank you, yeoman, that's sufficient." Spock turned to look back at him. Jim's look clearly said _you got me this time_. He smiled just a little bit, to show that it was all in good fun.

"How is our progress to New Vulcan, Captain?"

"We'll arrive in approximately two hours. By the way, you owe me a hot oil massage. And I won't accept it from anyone but you personally."

"Very professional, Captain," he remarked sarcastically.

"I thought so. In fact, we might make hot oil massages an official regulation. Then it would be entirely professional."

"I doubt that Starfleet will permit you to write a regulation that states that the First Officer is required to give the Captain regular hot oil massages."

"You never know. It sounds like a great idea to me." Despite finding the subject inappropriate for the setting, he was mildly amused.

"I am not at all surprised by that." Spock went to his station console and wrote an official debriefing for their trip to Vulcan. It took him some time, as he had to look up the exact information for the new planet, as well as the specifics for their progress on rebuilding the colony. When he had gathered sufficient information, and sent it, there was less than half an hour before they reached New Vulcan's orbit. He was entirely unsure of what to do. It was the first time he had ever felt truly nervous.

* * *

Stepping into the hot, dry air that was intended to be the same as his home planet, Spock almost reached for Jim's hand. They had successfully beamed into an antechamber of one of the completed constructions in the planet's new capitol. He knew his father and older self were likely to be among the group of Vulcans that were present to greet the small landing party. He knew well that his older self would have no issue with the union, but his father was another matter entirely. He knew his father would have no issue with Jim's species, but he doubted that his logical views would be able to comprehend the issue of Jim being male. After all, it was not as if they would be able to produce any offspring.

His father, stoic and proud, was at the forefront of the group. Spock acknowledged him with a slight nod. After the initial pleasantries were exchanged, Spock sought a moment alone with his father. He found him conversing with a physicist. Waiting politely, his eyes found Jim, who was talking to a Vulcan elder several yards away. He was looking around. After catching a brief smile, Spock deduced that he was looking for his elder self. When Sarek finished his conversation, he stepped in quickly.

"May I have a private word with you?" he asked, glancing at the small crowd.

"Of course. Follow me."

"Yes, just a moment." He slipped away to Jim, and pulled him away, saying something about 'official business'. Joining his father again, he asked, "Is there somewhere we can go?" Sarek looked at Jim questioningly, but led them away, down several corridors to a small, deserted sitting room.

"What is it you needed to talk about?" He sat in a rather plain, uncomfortable chair and indicated that they sit in two similar chairs.

"Father, I would like to inform you of something. It is of great importance."

"I appreciate that you have come to tell me in person. What is on your mind?"

Doing his best not to 'beat around the bush', so to speak, he began, "I have found…love. I know you think it unwise to use emotions, but I have learned that there are some instances in which one cannot ignore their feelings. As you had once fallen in love with a human, so have I. With Jim. It may not be logical, but I hope you can understand it on some level." Sarek stared at his son for a long moment.

Jim's voice was confident, yet deferential. "With all due respect, sir, I love him too. I'm going to spend the rest of my life with him. I won't let him down." Sarek looked between them, then focused on Jim.

"He is correct; it is not logical, but I know that love often is not. The last time I saw you, my son had his hand around your neck. I have known since then that you must have an uncanny ability to bring out his emotions. At first, I resented you for this. I only wanted him to have a good, fulfilling life. I did not want him to experience any sort of pain or cause it. However, I knew that as soon as he was given a position aboard your vessel, all hope for him leading a Vulcan life was lost. I have come to terms with this.

"But you must understand: you have opened up a new world for him, one that has the ability to make him very happy or cause him great pain, or any range of things between these two extremes. Vulcans feel things much more deeply, and for much longer, than humans do. You will have to adjust to this; his happiness is your responsibility now. If you cause him pain, not only will you be forced to live with the guilt for the rest of your life, but I will know that it is your doing." His tone implied that there was a painful end in sight for Jim if that were the case.

"I know. I'll never hurt him." Spock watched their exchange, feeling very much like he was an outsider.

"Are we satisfied with this arrangement?" the half-Vulcan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep, good talk." Jim grinned.

Sarek nodded. "I am in agreement. In addition, if you were to adopt a child later in life, I would not be against the idea." Spock gave a very small smile.

"Thank you, Father." Spock gave a nod and stood to leave. Jim and Sarek stood as well. Of course, Jim, being one for emotional displays, decided that it was a good idea to hug the older Vulcan. Sarek stiffened and gave Spock a curious look. Jim pulled away and clapped him on the shoulder.

"I will promise you adopted children. You'll make an awesome grandpa. Oh! You have to meet my mom! Actually, Spock needs to meet her too. But I'll connect you two once I've told her."

"That sounds agreeable, Captain Kirk."

"Oh, please, just call me Jim. We're practically family."

"Yes, well, you must have diplomatic affairs to attend to, as do I. Let us return."

When they had rejoined the rest of the group, Jim made it his mission to find the older Spock. The younger was a little more hesitant, feeling that he had no real business with him, but he thought he should be present just in case. When they found him standing off to the side, Jim edged him into an alcove where they could talk.

"Well, you two are certainly a sight for sore eyes. How is the _Enterprise_?" he asked, eyes glinting in a smile.

"We're great, she's great, and your dad gave us the okay. So life is pretty great right now."

"I must say, I'm not entirely surprised. After you spoke with me concerning your feelings, Jim, I admit to have anticipated such a thing."

"Really?"

"Yes. He may be austere at times, but my father still understood, in time, when I told him about myself and my own Jim. I suspect that the loss of our mother may have encouraged him to be more accepting of the idea, and so I am not at all surprised. I do appreciate that you came to tell me in person."

"Well, after what you said earlier, about me looking like him (well, I _am _him), I thought it might be nice to find you. That you might like it."

"I do, thoroughly. Thank you, Jim, Spock. I will take my leave, though. The others might notice that we look quite similar," he said, nodding.

"Of course. We will see you at a later time." The older Spock smiled and walked away, looking very much like a Vulcan but for a smile in his eyes.

Spock and Jim spent the rest of the visit talking to various Vulcan diplomats and exploring the settlement. Spock found everything quite interesting. They had managed to plant some of the original planet's flora and had collected many animals from zoos across the galaxy. It was very much like his old home, despite that the city was not set up according to the plans of any previous Vulcan cities. It was comforting, but the dry air held a feeling of bitter nostalgia. He saw his mother falling as his home was swallowed from its center. He did not wish to remain on the planet for long.

* * *

Back on the ship, he felt more at home than he had on the planet's surface. The hallways had begun to feel safer to him than had the streets of the city he grew up in. It was rather strange, but since it was most likely a result of Jim's existence, that in itself was not surprising. Also, for the most part, he'd been treated with cold disdain, at best, by everyone outside of his immediate family while on Vulcan, so it shouldn't have been surprising at all that he felt more welcome somewhere where people at least respected him, if they didn't see him as a friend.

He pressed the buzzer at Jim's door, more as a formality really, since there was nothing to hide between them. The door slid open, but Jim was talking to a holo screen projection of a smiling, slightly-past-middle-aged woman.

"Hey! Spock, come meet my mom." The Vulcan's posture straightened as much as his spinal column would allow. It was necessary for him to make a good impression on her. Jim waved him over.

"Greetings, Mrs. Kirk. I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Winona, please," she said automatically. "So you're the Vulcan who managed to sweep my son off his feet. It's nice to meet you."

"This is sorta awkward, actually…"

"Jim, do you think you can excuse us for a moment?" she asked, looking at him pointedly. He shrugged and took several steps backwards. "No, I mean, leave the room. Spock and I need to have a little discussion. In private." He rolled his eyes and backed out of the room. "So, Spock, I have to be blunt. Do you love him?" Her eyes pierced him.

"Yes," he replied evenly.

"Alright. I believe you. And, I been talking to Christopher Pike since just after the thing with Nero. He has nothing but great things to say about you. I trust you won't hurt him or anything. Just…take care of him, will you? He gets into this sort of mindset sometimes, where he forgets that he matters. Remind him, okay?"

"I will do so every day."

"Good. And don't forget to make him visit me. God knows I'm not enough to make him remember."

"Of course. Shall I summon him?" She nodded, and he turned around. "Jim? You may enter the conversation now." Jim came back, grinning at a private joke.

"Thanks," he said dryly. "So, mom, how long have you been dating Pike?" She shook her head, not meeting his eyes.

"I'm not dating him. We're just friends. We knew each other back the Academy."

"Right. Right. Just let me know if you marry him. I've got to be able to have a little fun with him about it."

"You know very well that we can't marry, not until you become an admiral or he retires." He shrugged. "Okay, well, I've got some stuff to do here, so I'll have to talk to you later. But don't forget to visit soon." She smiled wide. "I love you."

"Love you too, mom." He turned off the holo screen and looked at Spock. "So, what'd she tell you?"

"You were eavesdropping. You must have heard."

"Nah, I just heard about Pike. What'd she say?" Jim gave his best charming smile, and Spock simply broke.

"She told me not to let you forget that I love you, if you must know."

"Oh, nevermind her. She's sentimental and all that. However, if you think I'm forgetting, say, now, you could _remind_ me a little." He looked over to the bed with a seductive smirk. "Or a lot. I'm very open to some _reminding_." Spock glared, but gave in. He rather liked _reminding_. And Jim. He loved _Jim.

* * *

_

**A/N: The last chapter...Sorta. The epilogue is on it's way...**

**As always, I appreciate anyone who lets me know what they think.  
**


	16. Chapter 16: Epilogue

Spock sat in his armchair, reading. A pair of glasses were perched on his nose, as his vision had begun to deteriorate when he hit sixty, and, for reading, he preferred them to contacts. A loud crash and a shout of triumph floated to him from the hall closet. Apparently Jim had found something.

"I got it!" he announced, shuffling into the room. In his hands was an old-fashioned photo album. "Come over here." He gestured to a seat next to him on their couch. Spock put down his padd and sat next to him. Jim spread the photo album onto both of their laps, opening it. The first pictures were of a teenage Jim, standing in front of a motorcycle and looking very proud of himself. "I actually paid for that with my own money, you know. Loved that thing." Then there were a few from his days at the academy, mostly of Leonard McCoy or Nyota, in which the subjects seemed to be quite annoyed at the photographer. It was strange seeing them young again. A pang of sorrow hit him as he remembered the cold day several years ago on which they buried the doctor. It had seemed to be a cruel joke that of all things, he would have pancreatic cancer, one of the few human diseases they hadn't cured yet. Nyota had never been the same after that.

"They look so young," he whispered, remembering his own days at the Academy. The pages were turned, revealing a grinning, impossibly young Chekov, Sulu's unforgettable costume from a Halloween party (he had dressed as one of the three musketeers, complete with a rapier), and rather perfect image of Scotty yelling at Keenser whilst eating a sandwich. Now, Scotty was a rather aged Starship Captain, Sulu was the head of the botany department at the Academy, and Chekov was a retired prestigious physicist.

"I love this picture." Jim indicated an old, fairly worn photograph of two small children, one half-Vulcan, one human, cuddled on Nyota's lap. Jim's laugh lines crinkled.

"I cannot believe you still have this image." He shook his head, but it was immediately one of his favorites. Then came the pictures from Leonard and Nyota's wedding. As captain, Jim had insisted on doing the ceremony himself, so half of the pictures of the three of them at the "altar" featured the blond grinning impossibly wide and the couple making an impressive attempt at killing him with their eyes. The rest were from the reception which, due to the fact that Jim nearly force fed him several bars of chocolate, he did not remember at all, but the pictures showed him _smiling_ and, most shocking of all, _dancing_.

"Aw, you're so cute there." Spock shook his head, but smiled a little. Following those wedding pictures, were images of their own wedding. Well, _weddings_. Jim had insisted that they marry multiple times, in the traditions of several races and cultures. He had claimed that it was because he wanted to make sure no creature in the galaxy would attempt to seduce him, but he imagined, looking through the photographs, that it was probably simply because it was nice to relive the moment several times over.

They had married according to several Terran customs (Christian, Hebrew, Muslim, Hindi, and that of a small island off the coast of Tahiti), as well as those of the Vulcans, Orions, Andorians, and, though it was more accidental than anything else, the Klingons. In all of the pictures, Jim and Spock were very happy, while the expressions of their crew grew to resemble something more akin to disbelief when they reached the last few weddings, especially their admittedly failed attempt at the Klingon ceremony. Which, incidentally, took place while Spock was in the beginning stages of pon farr, during which he accidentally threw several large objects at Jim and a friendly Klingon who had joined the crew remarked that they seemed to be courting. This convinced Jim that they needed to be married as Klingons.

"You know, I like this one here," Jim said, indicating an image. Spock saw it and greened a little. During the pon farr after the last wedding, when he had finally realized what was happening, it seemed Jim had grabbed his camera just before they _settled things_. It was a rather dynamic image of Spock nearly attacking his mouth. It was a little bit of a surprise, considering that he did not recall the camera being present.

Pictures flipped by, encompassing years of their adventures. Leonard and Nyota's children, the ceremony promoting Jim to admiral, their own adopted children (two humans and a Vulcan), Pike and Winona's wedding, their own grandchildren. So many memories, and even more, hidden beneath the photographs, of all the things, private or grief-filled, that had never made it onto film. There was birth and death and friendship on all those pages. Looking at them all, Spock felt complete. Whole.

They'd _lived_. For what seemed like several lifetimes. But more importantly, they _loved_.

* * *

**A/N: I might be crying right now. Just a little. I'm sad it's over. I really appreciate all of you who followed this story. It means a lot to me. I love you all. Feel free to tell me how you liked the ending, though ...**

**On a related note, as I have mentioned, I am working on another Kirk/Spock fic. Multi-chapter and all that. It's going to be AU, with some parallels to the movie/series. In case you're interested, well, it's coming. Soonish.**

**On a not-so-related note, go see Sherlock Holmes. It's really funny, action-y, and there's gay subtext up to Jude Law's very pretty eyeballs. Like, it smacks you in the face. Hard. Well, and Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law are quite attractive, despite my initial misgivings in relation to RDJ playing an Englishman. So just go see it. And while you're at it, you might try renting Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. One of the funniest bromantic movies you'll ever see.  
**


End file.
